This Deep, Heretical Truth
by Raven Sinead
Summary: A continuation of "I Would See You Unscarred," and "To Touch the Face of God". The Landsmeet is approaching quickly. A mad tyrant must be deposed, a king re-instated, a country united in the face of the Blight. It will not be easy. F!Cousland/Leliana pairing. POV switch each chapter. Dialogue will not strictly follow the game. Story Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: All characters and plot belongs to Bioware. I own nothing, nor do I make any sort of monetary profit from these stories._**

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**Salem Cousland**

_Denerim_. The city gates screamed as they opened, allowing us entrance. _I knew I would return here. Leliana said it would all end here. I wonder…will I ever lay eyes on this city again?_

A reassuring hand slipped inside mine. "Are you all right, love?" her beautiful accent tickled my ear.

"I was merely thinking." I assured her.

While she did not speak of it that often, I knew she still struggled with her incessant worry over me.

"Thinking of what?" she pried, an impish smile on her lips.

"This place. What you said would happen here."

Her eyes filled with shadows. "You always ponder such dark thoughts, my warden. It troubles me to see you so fatalistic."

"Far from it." I lied, smiling for her comfort. There would be bleak enough times ahead. I could not bring myself to dampen the light in her eyes.

"Good." she rubbed my back and patted my shoulder. "We have at last returned to…well…I suppose this city would be Ferelden's excuse for civilization."

I laughed at her jest, knowing it was not meant in earnest. Leliana was Ferelden by blood and birth. She would not disown the country of her origin.

Arl Eamon walked to us, concern furrowing his brows. "Songstress." he nodded to Leliana and turned to me. "Warden. Our arrival will have caused quite a stir. I am quite certain that Loghain already knows of our being here. In the interest of safety, we should go directly to my estate. You have acquired some…colorful…companions, Teyrna Cousland. However unintentional, they draw attention."

"Please, Arl Eamon, call me Salem." I told him. "It would do precious little for your public image if you were overheard calling a deposed noble whose rights and title have been stripped_ by_ said title."

Eamon shook his head and his beard blew in the wind. "_That_ was a matter of treachery I shall lay bare in the Landsmeet." he promised. "Cousland has been one of Ferelden's noble houses long before we broke from Orlais. Your loyalty to king and country has never wavered."

I scoffed. "Not to hear Loghain tell it. And who will the people believe, the controversial Grey Warden child of a dead house, or the hero of the war with Orlais?"

Eamon frowned behind his moustache. "There are weak points in every armor, Teyrna. We must simply find Loghains weaknesses and exploit them. Preferably before the Landsmeet is called. However, we must thoroughly ensconce ourselves in the city before either of those goals may be accomplished."

"As you say." I agreed, watching him return to his wagons, wife, and child.

We had sped to Redcliffe from the village of Haven, straining to get Andraste's ashes to the Arl in time. For the first time in what seemed an eternity, luck traveled with us. The Ashes had worked immediately, leading to Arl Eamon returning to us hearty and whole, and a grateful Arlessa who had collapsed in my arms, weeping with joy and exhaustion. The woman had even kissed Alistair on the cheek.

I smiled at the memory. Alistair had confided me that Isole _hated_ him. It was the reason he had been forced from Arl Eamon's guardianship and into the life of a templar. A life he had left for the wardens.

_I am grateful_, I smiled at him, but he did not return the gesture. Alistair wanted to be here less than I; knowing that, if we were successful in the Landsmeet, he would soon wear the crown of an unstable country. _It is perhaps a greater burden than facing the Archdemon. Forgive me, Alistair. This is not what either of us had anticipated, or desired…it is simply the path Fate has thrust upon us._

"You are thinking in dark places again." Leliana chided as we fell in step behind Eamon's caravan. I hung my head, trying to seem as though I were a hired soldier, part of the Arl's armed retinue.

I shook my head, almost ill-at-ease with how well the bard could sense my thoughts. She was becoming as adept as Burrow. I had chosen to cage the mabari, much to his unhappiness and my discomfort. However, precautions did need to be taken. Loghain had many spies and many sympathizers, and mabaris were rare, easily recognizable.

"Simply pitying Alistair." I told her, watching her nod in commiseration.

"Neither of you will walk an easy path." she acknowledged. "It is good that he has you to lean on."

"At the end of this road, I am certain he will hate me." I shared my fears with her.

"The possibility of that happening is the same chance we have of seeing Andraste walk among us again." Leliana said, cheeky. She sobered and, in a rare moment, met my eyes. "He loves you, Salem."

_What knowledge do you possess that I do not?_ I wondered. _Did you even hear him last night, cursing my name, blaming me for drawing the truth of his lineage out of him? We nearly came to blows…things between us are still in disrepair._ I pinched the bridge of my nose, thoughts racing through my head in a painful threnody.

"No more of that, my warden." she elbowed me in the side, gentle.

I looked at her, incredulous. "And what has you in such fine spirits, dear heart?"

"Civilization." her smile broadened, unquenchable in its brightness. "The sounds of the city, the thrill of intrigue…the promise of a hot bath and _soap!_"

I laughed, giving into her infectious mirth. "A hot bath you say?" I asked. "Would you be wishing to partake of such luxuries alone or…"

She raised an eyebrow. "I would not be averse to company, my warden, if you should happen to know of those who would provide it."

"I hear The Pearl…"

"Wench!" she shoved at me, playful, laughing like a young woman with no cares on her mind…who did not love a warden doomed to death.

_Maker, you are lovely_, I watched her laughing, glorying in its music. _And we are in your element. Who better to fell a pretender to the throne than a woman who has toppled kings and made countries run amuck? Do you know, dear heart, that I wake every morning with a prayer of thanks on my lips? Will I ever be able to convey…with my weak words and past the burdens on my soul…how much I love you?_

Arl Eamon's servants opened the portcullis leading to the estate. The caravan moved inside the grounds. I followed, quickly making it to the front of the procession. Leliana followed, concerned.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, resting a hand on my shoulder.

The doors of the estate opened and my eyes flared. "No." I answered. "It most certainly is not."


	2. Chapter 2

**Leliana**

Salem's body went rigid as a group of men approached us. A man in silver armor was surrounded by armed guards. He had his onyx hair tied back and his eyes shone out, as filled with madness as Salem's were with death.

Arl Eamon scrambled down from his wagon and walked to meet them. Salem squeezed my hand, a silent missive to stay behind. I complied, insomuch as I did not join her, but I edged close enough to hear them.

I admired my warden as she strode forward, soot-black armor gleaming. After hearing the story of what had transpired in the Frostbacks, Levi Dryden had gifted Salem with his ancestor's armor. My warden had refused out of honor, but the young man persisted, saying it was the least he could offer for the favors she had done him.

_It suits her._ I mused. _Though it gives her a rank she does not possess...as of yet. Warden Commander Cousland_, I smiled at the thought of it.

"Eamon." the man in silver armor spoke. "I see you have decided to persist in your madness."

Arl Eamon frowned. "No more than you, _Teyrn _Loghain."

_Loghain!_ my mind fired with alarm. This was the man who had placed a bounty on the wardens. This was the man…I glanced back at Zevran. The elf had tied a scarf around his hair, concealing his ears. He shrank back behind the wagon. He knew Loghain. He knew the man would stop at nothing if he knew his hired assassin had joined my warden's cause.

"Let us not mince with pleasantries, or titles, Eamon." Loghain spoke and I noticed the snake of a man behind him staring daggers into Salem. "I have come to attempt a peaceful resolution before you bring yourself to public shame before the bannorn."

"There can be no peace with what you have done, Loghain." Eamon spoke, still collected. "The bannorn _will_ assemble; the Landsmeet _will_ be called."

"And what?" Loghain smirked. "You will set before them baseless accusations? It will descend into a flurry of name-calling and ancient grievances, sending this country home more severed than it is now."

_Why hasn't she spoken?_ I looked at Salem, her eyes cast down, her shoulders bunched. This was not the warden I had come to know and love. _I know she holds no fear of Loghain. Why then, is she remaining silent?_

"This country would not be in its fractured state if King Cailan were alive to tend to its needs." Eamon claimed.

Loghain's eyes lit with fury. "Our king would still be alive if it weren't for _that_." he pointed to Salem.

My warden flinched and I clenched my fists, restraining myself from rushing to her defense. Instead, I examined the guards, biting my tongue and imagining a horrible, torturous death for all of them.

"Do you want me to remove my clothes, Teyrn Loghain?" Salem asked.

_What in hell?_

"Whatever for?" Loghain sneered. "I can do far better than a baseborn Cousland whore." The snake behind him snickered.

_**That**__ I will not countenance! _I strode forward and felt a hand of steel on my shoulder. Furious, I looked into the stern face of the qunari.

"Do not make this worse." he rumbled.

_He is right_, I realized. _Thus far this has been a civil argument…if any of us step in Loghain will have full right to attack. We cannot risk that, not now. _

Salem laughed, though it was forced. "No, Teyrn Loghain. I meant to inquire if you should like to see the scars from the wounds I received at the Tower of Ishal after I lit the beacon."

"And who would believe you?" Loghain inquired, voice oily with false kindness. "Any scars you would show me are like as not remnants of failed attempts to take your own life after your father was found guilty of treason and had to be put down like the dog he is…forgive me. _Was_."

Salem's lips went white with fury. "Call me a liar, if that is your wish. Call me a baseborn whore." her voice was tightly controlled, straining at civility. "But _do not_ decry the Cousland name in my presence."

"The Cousland name." the man behind Loghain spoke at last. Even his voice reminded me of a serpent, evil…venomous. "It is worth less than the dirt in Highever."

Salem curled her hands into fists, an action that did not go unnoticed. "I apologize that you inherited a territory in such disarray." the muscles in her jaw clenched. "Arl Howe."

_Maker's breath_, my hand flew to my open mouth. Answers to all the questions I had asked tumbled into place. _She is helpless to act and she is standing before…before the man that ordered her family slaughtered. A man who had no scruples about killing a six year old child. It is taking all her strength to not lash out. _

"It's Teyrn Howe, now." he smiled. "As a reward for rooting out deep treachery, Regent Loghain was kind enough to accord me the territory of Highever. My banner flies over House Cousland as we speak."

"You miserable, misbegotten son of dogs." Salem growled, nearing the precipice of losing her mind. "And you," she turned to Loghain, "Cailan was still alive and _still_ king when Highever was sacked. You had no right under Ferelden law to give those lands to him."

"The decision was made after Cailan's unfortunate demise." Loghain tried to sound sympathetic…failed. He was bursting at the seams with…merriment?

_Of course. Playing with lives and families and emotions…anything to weaken this country's infrastructure and set him up for power. He tires of his glory paling in the face of a Blight. So he does what any narcissist would do…claims the Blight does not exist until he is in a position to end it._ _Brilliant strategy, Loghain. _

"Of course it was." Salem pinched the bridge of her nose. "Cousland's last child has no say in this matter, I suppose."

"You were overburdened already." Howe gave a paternal smile. "Finding out your family's sordid history, being thrust into a darker fate. We did not wish to burden you yet further."

"I killed scores of your men, Rendon Howe. You are a far softer target." Salem stepped forward and I did not know what to do. Rush to her aid, or pull her away. She would thank me for neither.

"Get off of my lands, Loghain." Eamon warned. "You and your ilk are not welcome here."

"Is that a threat?" Loghain asked. "Tell me, what am I to fear? An old man with one foot in the grave? Or a slip of a girl who drank a magic potion, met a bastard liar, and thinks herself a hero? Treason runs in the blood, Eamon. You are not at all safe with this one."

"If treachery is found in bloodlines, I would rather have the young Cousland at my side than Anora, Loghain." Eamon retorted. "Get _off_ of my land."

"As you wish." Loghain smiled and Eamon stepped aside, Salem following him.

The self-appointed regent moved past the caravan; Rendon Howe stayed behind. He laid a hand on Salem's shoulder and her eyes flashed with murder.

"I am sorry for your losses." Howe claimed, sounding every inch the consoling noble. "But, please, for your family's sake, warn Eamon against the Landsmeet. It would be too cruel to dishonor Bryce and Eleanor Cousland in a public forum."

"_Get_. _Your. Hands. Off of me._" Salem spoke in the voice that many of us had learned to fear. It was the tone of a scarcely sheathed blade, a fiercely contained wrath.

"Keep care, warden." he patted her shoulder and walked away, unharmed, unscathed…unassailable.

I walked to Salem, watching blood drip down her chin. She had bitten into her lip to maintain her silence. _Maker, why this, why now? She was smiling, laughing even. We were…happy._

"Salem…"

She raised her gaze to mine. "Not now, Leliana." Her eyes swarmed with rage, anguish, and murderous intent.

I lifted my hands in surrender and backed away, into Wynne's disconcerted gaze. We watched Salem walk into the estate with Arl Eamon.

"I am familiar with Loghain's face," Wynne spoke, "but I did not hear anything. What happened, Leliana?"

I did not turn to the senior enchanter, too focused on Salem's retreating form. "What was said is unimportant." I wiped a stray tear from my eye. "Loghain was accompanied by Rendon Howe."

"Maker have mercy." Wynne wrapped her arm about me.

"She would not speak to me." I whispered. "I'm…I'm afraid, Wynne."

"You fear what reckless action she will take against Howe?"

"No." _Salem would not endanger the Landsmeet. _"I fear what reckless action she will take against herself."


	3. Chapter 3

**Salem**

_He touched me. That bastard had the gall to lay his hands on my body, knowing full well that I could do __**nothing!**_

My hands itched for my blades, to rush after the departing caravan and put our two greatest enemies to the sword. But no. I knew Ferelden law. I knew Arl Eamon had done the only thing that would re-unite our country. The Landsmeet. I had to believe that the system we had fought so hard to put in place could be used to aid our cause. I had to keep my calm.

_I will see you ended, Howe_, I made the vow and clenched my fist. _Hide behind Loghain's power and influence while you can. I will reserve my wrath for shadows, and your end for ignominy. My vengeance will spread to your children, and your children's children. You slaughtered my family and took my lands. I will see your houses burned and your farmland strewn with salt._

"Teyrna Cousland." Arl Eamon's sagacious voice.

I flinched, forgetting that we had entered his estate together. "Forgive me." I apologized. "I am not quite myself."

"Nor would I be, had I been faced with such a situation." Eamon offered a kind smile. "In truth I did not expect him to sally forth so quickly. Loghain is a coward, but such cowardice led to tactics that brought us to victory against Orlais."

"And he supplied such tactics to his favored butchers." I spat. "Please…please excuse me, Arl Eamon. Might I ask to be left alone with my thoughts?"

"Any of the upstairs rooms are yours for the taking." Eamon directed me to a staircase. "Take all the time you need. If I may, Salem, I would like to leave you with a thought of my own."

"Yes, Arl Eamon?"

The man set his hand on my shoulder and pulled my eyes to his, un-flinching. "Bryce would be _proud_ of you, child."

My mouth quirked as I fought down tears. "Thank you."

"I will settle my family and your companions." he bid me farewell. "Seek me out when you are ready to discuss our strategy."

"As you say."

The moment he turned his back, I fled, staggering up the stairs as tears blinded me. I found a secluded room and closed the door behind me. I tore my swords off of my back and dashed them against the stone. My armor followed, my fingers tearing at the leather straps.

_I want no part of this. I am __**sick**__ of holding my temper and chaining down my tongue. I am at __**my end**__ with armor and blades that provide no protection for the heart. I did nothing. I did __**nothing!**__ I stood before my family's murderer and…I failed them. I know Eamon meant well but my father will know no rest until Oren and my mother are avenged. Then, and only __**then**__, will he take pride in the fact that I share his blood._

My stomach turned and I forced down the bile in my throat. "I am no better." I looked into the mirror, staring into the death in my eyes. "I have killed hundreds…thousands even." I walked closer to the mirror, hating every line on my face, every pre-mature silver strand in my hair, the stream of blood on my chin…the damn scar on my cheek. "And not just darkspawn." _I am surely going mad. _"Men, women…_children_."

I stared at my reflection, remembering Haven…_sick sound as the sword enters the body…the blow seems lower than it should…panicked gasping as the tiny body crumples to the ground…he's crying…in pain…too young to understand…I __**murdered **__him._

"How easy it would be." I whispered, reaching out, touching the glass-sheen of the mirror. It cooled my skin, but could do nothing to ease the heat behind my eyes. "So very, very simple."

_I tried it once; almost succeeded. I am alone here, no one near enough or aware enough to stop me. Alistair has Eamon's support now. He…he has grown, since the beginning. He will be able to face this on his own. They have no need of me…any longer. I could go…home._

Almost unaware of the movement, I drew the knife from my belt. I tested the razor edge with my thumb, satisfied by the metallic ring. I looked up; faced my mirror-self, saw her cradling the knife I had used in the protection of others, in defense of my country and my love.

_Why?_ I asked myself. _Why does it come to this? I…I cannot understand. Never have I been this…this fatalist who stares into what Future holds and __**cowers**__. _

"You," I extended the knife and spoke to the image in the glass, "you are better than this. Death is not peace. It is not strength. You have…so…so much to live for."

_But my eyes are filled with ghosts. The souls of those I have slaughtered linger, haunting me, whispering to self and others of what I have done, of who I am. Ignoble, baseborn, the one who carries the sins of ancients on her shoulders. In truth, what manner of future do I face?_

I lowered my hand and examined the knife once more. "Father, I wish you were here." tears sprang to my eyes again. "I need a steadying hand…please, Maker, please. Take this from me."

_Salem_, a memory spoke to me, a memory of my mother's voice_, let nothing be taken from you. If all you have is the ground beneath your feet, __**fight for it**__. Keep everything near, your joys, your sorrows, your strengths, your weaknesses. Keep every part of your Self and no enemy can dream of bringing you low. _

"Every part." I nodded to the woman in the mirror, a woman much changed since that night in Highever when my mother had spoken those words. "Even my failures."

With a smile, I remembered my words to the Guardian of the Ashes. I said them again, though I had less than the ground beneath my feet, less surety in my future than a dayfly. "I am not yet gone."

I let the knife clatter to the stone floor. I would not lift it against myself again.

That done, I sat down, curled into myself, and, accepting my weaknesses, wept like a child.


	4. Chapter 4

**Leliana**

_I am at my end with this_, I fumed, helpless to do anything. Arl Eamon led us through the levels of his estate, allocating rooms for each of us, instructing various servants to attend to our needs. I shared a worried glance with Wynne as the arl launched into a lengthy explanation regarding the location of the kitchens. Salem was conspicuously missing.

_Where __**is**__ she?_ I wondered, peering around corners and into hallways. _Her frame of mind…I cannot imagine the chaos flooding her at this moment. And where am I? Where am I when she most needs me? I am trapped, listening to this man ramble endlessly…calm, Leliana. The arl is being quite kind, securing us in his estate. Were we to be anywhere else, Loghain would surely seek us out and have us murdered as we slept._

I shifted my weight and crossed my arms. _When will this interminable tour be over?_

Alistair glanced at all assembled and a quizzical expression crossed his face. He looked at me, raising his eyebrows in query. I shrugged my shoulders.

_Apparently none of us know where she has gone._

"And with that said," Arl Eamon droned, "please feel free to avail yourself of all the amenities provided. I myself shall withdraw for the evening and get myself and Isolde settled. I would advise, however, that should any of you brave the city of Denerim, you do not go alone."

"Of course." Alistair nodded.

Eamon departed and Alistair crossed to me, hurried. "Where is she?" he asked.

"I do not know." I answered as Wynne joined us.

"I am certain Salem is well." the senior enchanter spoke words of calm even as worry sparked in her gaze. "She would do nothing to endanger the Landsmeet."

_None of them know_, I dug my nails into my arms. _None of them know what happened in the Temple of the Ashes. They are unaware of how close…how close she came to abandoning us all. I know it is wrong of me to lack faith in her, to believe that she might near that edge once more, and yet…_

"I'm going to find her." there had been enough pointless talk already. One of us needed to take action.

I turned away from the others and walked up the stairs. _Salem seeks out high places when troubled. While I do not know why, it is a habit I have noticed. Most would gravitate to dark, hidden sanctuary. I know that is my preference._

Another empty room greeted me. _Damn it, Salem. Where are you?_

I walked to the next door and eased it open, praying. _Let her be safe, please, dear Maker, let her be safe._ Holding my breath, I entered, taking in the scene before me. Salem lay on the floor, curled into herself, before a mirror. Her knife lay on the ground.

_No!_ a wordless scream echoed through my mind. _No no no no no no! This isn't happening, **can't** be happening!_

Hesistant, hurting, I moved closer, kneeling down beside her still body, looking for blood, wounds…anything. I touched her hand, recoiling from the frigidity of her skin. My breath shuddered out and I closed my eyes, unwilling to face this. "Salem, _why_?"

"Leliana?"

My eyes snapped open. I pulled her into my arms, pressing my lips to hers, releasing all of my fear in a rush of relief and love. "Maker's blood," I pressed my forehead to hers and ran my hand through her hair, "you're freezing."

"Leliana, are you all right?" she asked, pulling out of the embrace.

I could see the lines of tears on her cheeks, the dark bruises underneath her eyes. Exhaustion had overtaken her. I took her hands in mine, warming them. "You…I…I came in and you were on the floor, and I saw the knife and you were so cold and…" I inhaled, deep, trying to control the excuses that spilled out in a tumble of ill-controlled words.

_You alone_, I thought, fond, _you alone render me this tongue-tied, babbling idiot. _

"And you thought I had taken my life." her voice remained steady, though rough with the remnants of tears.

"Salem, forgive me." I apologized, squeezing her hands. "I know I should not even allow such thoughts to cross my mind."

"No." she shook her head and pulled her hands from mine. Her eyes were downcast, but not in deference to me. In…shame. "You were correct. I very…very nearly…you must think me pathetic."

_Oh, my love. No. There is no shame in this. I never told you, my warden. I never told you of the night when I woke in the Chantry after escaping Val Royeaux. I was in so much pain, so betrayed, transfixed by the wreck of my once flawless body, stained and tainted by the Orlesian guards. I, too, have felt the kiss of a blade against my breast. I have longed for the warm embrace of eternity._

"No, Salem." I assured her, taking her in my arms once more. "No. You were caught in a cruel trap, and it is miracle enough that you kept your head. I…I would have torn them apart. I am not so strong a person as you, my love."

Salem scoffed in self-derision. "Fear is not a strength. I…I saw him and I…I froze, Leliana. I gazed into Howe's eyes and I faltered. I lost everything, every courage I have gained, every miracle I have witnessed, every bond I have forged. I became the girl in Highever who stared at her nephew's open throat, who watched her father bleed out, who saw her mother slaughtered."

Fresh tears gathered in her eyes. I wiped them away, sharing her sorrow. _I remember when you did not know what it was to weep. I am glad to see your grief returned to you. Though unpleasant, maddening, grief makes us whole._

"They sought to break you and they failed." I consoled her. She remained silent. "Salem?"

"They did break me." she whispered.

I gathered her body to me, closer, tighter, praying that she could feel the love I had for her. "You are stronger than them." I pressed. "You have not yet lost your weakness; you remain grounded in your humanity. To lose that, as they have, that is beyond you."

"I'm a killer, Leliana." Salem refused to listen. "You have witnessed this."

"And I witnessed you, tearing yourself apart after every battle, forcing yourself to bury the dead. You have killed, Salem. It does not make you a killer."

Salem extricated herself from my embrace, pulling away, concealing her heart. "You are too good to me."

She rose and began pacing the room. I lifted her knife from the ground, thanking the Maker that she had not used it against herself.

"Salem, please," I entreated, trying to calm her. "You are obviously troubled. Speak with me. You are not alone in this."

She stopped pacing, pinching the bridge of her nose. "No. I am not. And I nearly cast that away. How unforgivably selfish is that action, Leliana? It…it was different, the first time. You were gone…I thought…the others…they…"

_Stop this. Stop torturing yourself, my love. What you have endured is enough, must you hammer at your soul with self-created shortcomings? _

I rose and sat on the edge of the bed. "Salem," I turned my voice stern, "sit."

With a sigh, she crossed to me and sat down, refusing to look at me.

"Salem."

"What?" she asked, bitterness washing over her.

"Look at me."

She turned her face to mine, keeping her eyes averted. "Yes."

"_Look_ at me." I stressed. Her eyes locked with mine, daring me to flinch, to fear her, to name her what she thought she was—a killer. "There is something I must tell you, my warden. Listen."


	5. Chapter 5

**Salem**

_She is not looking away,_ I thought_, _waiting for the prolonged blink, or the hasty aversion that said she had endured enough of staring at death. It did not come.

"I'm listening." I told her.

Leliana visibly gathered her composure, squaring her shoulders and inhaling, deep. "I spent two weeks in the dungeons of Val Royeaux." she spoke at last. "They beat me, burned me, starved me, all in an attempt to gain my confession. When it was obvious those tactics were not working, the guards…used me…in as many depraved ways as they could fathom."

"Leliana," _you do not need to share this with me; I love you and accept you as you are_, "it is all right. I understand."

She answered with a soft smile, "I do not think you do, my warden."

"As you say."

She re-oriented herself and reached out, taking my hand in her own. "As I have told you, I was aided in my escape by a mother of the Chantry. It was her fault that the documents had entered Marjolaine's possession…but that is not the purpose of this tale."

I could see the nightmares entering her eyes, the two weeks she had been immersed in hell. _Why?_ I wondered. _She speaks so very little of this. I know that it pains her to delve into her past, even the moments of joy that lay therein. _

"When I woke," she continued, "I was in an unfamiliar place, in unimaginable, terrible pain. Even so, I managed to stagger to my feet. My skin had been cleaned and the scent of elfroot was thick in the air. All memories of my escape had faded, I waited by the door for torturers who did not come. I waited until what little strength I had left me and I collapsed."

Her breath shuddered out and I sat closer to her, wrapping my arm around her body. She rested her head on my shoulder.

"It was then that I saw a mirror in the room." I felt moisture on my shoulder. "And the face that looked back at me was not mine. My eyes were blackened, my skin torn and cracked. I did not even recognize the color of my eyes, or who I saw in them. They were feral, frightened. Memories began to return in a terrifying flood."

_Maker's breath…you woke alone, with no one there, either to comfort or to slay you. Why did you never tell me this before? Moreover, why are you telling me now?_

"I crawled to the mirror and began tearing at my clothes, revealing, piece by piece, the extent of what had been done to me. In the dungeon, I thought of other things until my mind went completely numb. I had dreamed worlds away from the nightmare, focusing on lives that could have been. All of that, that self-imagined reality, fell apart as I gazed at myself."

_I know, my love_, I pulled her tighter against me_, I have seen what was done to you, and I wish every day that somehow, I could have been there to undo it. I know it is a foolish thought to harbor, but that does not sway me. I would give anything of myself to grant you the life that you deserve. _

"I know…I know how petty this will sound, and I pray you do not think less of me for it." Leliana looked into my eyes again, pleading with gaze and words. "But…my body…it was, upon a time, flawless. My mind was disregarded, my thoughts inconsequential. Even to those who…who claimed to love me…they used me for my body. For the doors it could open, the tongues it could unlock. And I stared at it, the ruin of what had been the sole thing that I considered my worth."

"I could never think less of you, dear heart." I swore, pressing my lips to her forehead as testament. _I can only harbor hate for those who convinced you that you were worth so little. _

"It…" her voice caught, "it well and truly broke me." she admitted. "My clothes had been laid neatly beside the bed, nothing out of place; even the knife that the Chantry mother had slipped to me had remained untouched."

_This is going nowhere pleasant…_

"So I took knife in hand, and looked in the mirror once more, bidding everything that I had been farewell. I placed the blade beneath my breast and wished for nothing but death. For all I knew, I now was worthless. I would never know another's admiration, never experience another's touch without judgment. So I did what I knew best. I forced the knife into my skin, trying to reach my heart."

_Maker's breath, why? You…you…everything you are is beauty and strength. How could another fool's beliefs bring you so low? _My body trembled with wrath against the ones who had marked my love in this way. I wished to speak, to say something that would alleviate her sorrow.

"What happened?" I asked.

_I have seen the scar beneath her heart, nearly the same as the one she placed on me. I had assumed that it was due to her torture…I had no comprehension of this. _

"I did not have the strength." she confessed. "And just as I collapsed, the door opened and Mother Dorothea entered. She saved my life, putting me on the path I followed until I met you." she sat up, brushing tears from her eyes and straightening her hair. "I do not tell you this to cause you grief or bring you to anger. I tell you this so that you understand. I have stood where you stand, my love, and you are far stronger than I. That blade never entered your skin."

"Not for want of trying." I whispered, reaching out, tracing the structure of her face with my hand, lost in the feel of her skin against mine. "Thank you, Leliana. I...I can never convey…how much…how much I love you."

"Before you entered my life," Leliana smiled, granting me the greatest gift a bard could, a happy ending, "I had not known a lover's touch since Marjolaine's. I trembled, when I realized the gravity of what I felt for you. The lies of others were still foremost in my thoughts. Phantom voices decried me, reviling my scars, my brokenness, the fact that my body was a wasteland."

"This, I recall." _her trembling voice as she at last told me the truth of her life before the Chantry, the apologetics she made, the turning of her face from mine as she begged my acceptance._ "Please tell me you no longer harbor these fears."

"They still linger." she whispered, brutal in her honesty, even though she knew it would break my heart. "I…I cannot kill the ghosts of the past, Salem. Some days I still wonder how you can feel for me as you do. There are moments I doubt your caress, question your kiss, stare into a mirror and _loathe_ all that I am."

I reached out to her as tears fell fresh. "I love you." I whispered, tearing truth from my heart and imparting it to her. "Everything that you are. I wake every morning with your name on my lips. My last sweet memory before slumber is your voice in my ears. I tremble at the beauty of your touch, and I long…I long for words that are adequate in their power and meaning to tell you…"

Her lips pressed to mine, a kiss of desperation and quiet, devastating truths. "Show me." she whispered as her teeth grazed my ear. "Salem, please, show me."

Slow, gentle, I removed her clothes, trailing fingers and lips over her scars, worshipping her body, erasing the lies she had been told, destroying what insecurities remained, silencing the ghosts that danced behind her eyes.

_You tore the armor from your soul in hopes to give me strength. You confided to me the moment when you indulged your greatest darkness. My words are so grossly inadequate, my love. Let my hands speak in their place._


	6. Chapter 6

**Leliana**

I woke to moonlight streaming through the window. I reached across the bed, seeking Salem's warmth. All I found were cold sheets and her conspicuous absence.

"Salem?" I asked the empty room. No response.

I rose and threw on my clothes, savoring the pleasant ache between my thighs. I smiled. _Show me_, I had begged, praying to my lover for a foundation in the swirling sea of my emotions. Salem had answered with passionate silence, desire and longing.

_ How does she do this? How can she weave my insecurities into a tapestry of futures and assurances? I have never known what it is to be loved_, I pressed my hand to the scar beneath my heart, _I have never known…until now._

I stole down the hallways and stairs; heard voices from the direction of Arl Eamon's study.

"Have you lost your mind!" Alistair spoke, raising his voice in a manner that I had never before witnessed. "You would think to march directly into the lion's den! They _know_ we are here! This is a _trap_!"

I slipped into the door of the study, wrapping the shadows about me like a cloak.

"We cannot know that." Salem argued, maintaining her calm. "If there is even the slightest chance…"

"Like the Ashes, Salem?" Alistair interrupted. "We all know how _beautifully_ _**that **_situation managed itself! Why would you even _think_ to trust this?!"

"Because I cannot afford to ignore it." she answered.

"Just like you could not _afford_ to ignore my bastard heritage?" Alistair sneered. "Strange how you _can_ ignore things that should give you greater pause."

"Such as, Alistair?" Salem folded her arms, not comfortable with this confrontation, but letting it play out.

"Where should I begin?" Alistair asked. "The apostate mage with a tongue made of acid? The Antivan assassin who _was sent to kill us_? Or," he tapped his chin, "let me think, the _delusional _Orlesian _**bard**_ that you invited into our inner circle, and then _to your bed!_"

"That is _enough_, Alistair." Salem snapped, drawing the elder warden in line. "Those three have saved our lives more times than we can ever repay. This is not about them and well you know it. Do _not_ drag them into this. From the beginning, this has been between you and me."

"You are _using_ me, Salem!" Alistair shouted. "I was your _friend_! I have fought and bled by your side, and you are taking _no_ consideration for _my _future!"

"And if this were simply about your future, Alistair, there would be no thought closer to my mind." Salem rested her hand on his shoulder, looking directly into his eyes. "I love you as I loved my own brother." she admitted. "And I know, I _know_ that this is not what you desired."

"Like hell." he spat, clearly bitter.

"Do not make this a contest between us." Salem warned him. "Do not make this about who has suffered more tragedy or who deserves the right to dictate their own destiny, because I _will_ emerge the victor. I would hope we have been through enough together that we need not measure or mete each other by such weak standards."

"Then _why?_" he drew closer to her until their noses were mere inches apart. "Tell me why or, by Andraste's holy name, I will _strike you down_."

_This path has changed him_, I thought, considering the wardens who stood before me. _When I first met him, Alistair would cower behind Salem, ceding every decision to her. Now he argues, and stands his ground. He is fast becoming the heir to the Theirin name. _

"Because you are the only man who could lead this country!" Salem emphasized every word. "Ferelden is splitting at the seams! We need a leader who can show compassion and wield the sword. We need a king with a heart for the people. Your brother played at hero because it is _what he wanted_. He forsook his country for dreams of grandeur and he _failed_. You, Alistair, you are a hero. You are more Maric's son than Cailan ever could have been."

"_Cailan_," Alistair stressed the name, "was _legitimate_."

"Legitimacy means nothing." Salem replied. "The measure of a man's heart determines his capacity to rule. This is your decision, Alistair, I only push you towards it because of how much I love my country."

"I am no ruler, Salem." the man hung his head, almost ashamed. "These past months, fraught with peril as they have been, have been the happiest of my life. I had purpose, true purpose, a leader who treated me as an equal and forced me to have a voice when I did not wish one. I am…comfortable…with you, Salem. I desire no other life than the one I that I have now."

"I never wanted this life at all." Salem confided in him the truth, the same truth she had whispered to me, many times. "I was forced into it and I fit the mold because life and time dictated that I must. I took charge because I could do nothing else. I am still at loose ends, Alistair, and while I do not think this is anything less than a trap, it is one I _must_ walk into."

_And now, I intervene._

"What trap?" I asked, letting my presence be known.

Alistair jumped at the sound of my voice. Salem merely smiled in greeting, telling me she knew of my being there the entire time.

_Cheeky warden_, I thought, _you are becoming much too astute for my liking._

"We had a late night visitor." Alistair informed me. "Erlina, an elven maid in service to Queen Anora. She said that Loghain has gone mad; that he has imprisoned the queen in Arl Howe's estate because she intended to speak against him in the Landsmeet."

_This is not coincidence._ "And?"

"And _Salem_," Alistair frowned, indicating his reticence, "wishes to march into Howe's estate and rescue the queen. This is madness. Tell her this is madness, Leliana."

_No. No. _I looked at my warden, quirking an eyebrow. She pursed her lips and nodded, giving me leave to speak. _This is not at all safe. _

"This is…" Alistair leaned forward, eager to hear my answer. If I sided with him, he knew Salem would never go against our wishes. _Maker, forgive me, for I set death before her again. _"…a risk worth taking."

"_What_?" Alistair asked, incredulous. "Have you both gone _insane_! This is Loghain's way of drawing Salem into the open, and _ending her_."

"What if it is not?" I defended Salem, who remained silent, determined to hear both sides of our argument. "What if the queen truly does wish to aid our cause? What if she has seen the madness in her father's eyes?"

"You are siding with her to keep yourself in her affections." Alistair accused me. "Am I the only one who sees that this is a tale riddled with _lies_!?"

"I love Salem, Alistair." I withered him with a glare, wordlessly reminding him of our conversation in the mountains, when he confessed that he felt for her as I did. "Do you think I want her walking into certain danger?"

"No." the man averted his gaze. "Then why, Leliana?"

"Because of this country's history." I answered. "When Ferelden won her independence from Orlais, which three houses bound her together?"

Alistair did not answer. Salem, however, knew. "Theirin," she spoke, "Mac Tir, and Cousland."

I nodded. "If we could re-forge that powerful alliance at the Landsmeet, then none could stand against us. Not even Loghain's minions to could face the bloodlines that gave them their land, titles, and freedoms."

"But…it is a lie." Alistair stressed.

"We have to believe against that." Salem encouraged him. "We have to believe that forces greater than ourselves will aid us. Please, Alistair, I _must_ do this."

"Very well." he spat, stalking out of the room.

Salem pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. I walked to her and embraced her, noticing that she trembled.

"I do not wish to argue with him." she whispered, resting her head on my shoulder. "Not when we need unity; not when I most require him by my side."

"All will resolve itself." I promised her, stroking her back. "But, Salem, he was right. This _is_ madness. Chances stand that you will be doing _exactly_ what Loghain desires."

"I know." she answered. "But, Leli, I…"

"Hush, love." I pressed my fingers to her lips. "I understand. And I will agree with your decision, on one condition."

"And that is?" she asked.

"I am coming with you."

"Leliana," she looked into my eyes, forcing me to face her, something she rarely did, "if this is a trap, you are the last person I want endangered."

_Alas, my love, you force me into an ultimatum. _"You will either be accompanied by me or Alistair." I set her options before her. "And I know you will not risk the life of Ferelden's future king."

Salem laughed under her breath. "I surrender, dear heart." she said, sealing the accord with a soft kiss.

_Forgive me for setting that choice before you, Salem_. I whispered with my thoughts as she followed me back to our bed. _But if you are to face hell once more, I __**will**__** not** be left behind._


	7. Chapter 7

**Salem**

Leliana adjusted the straps on the ill-fitting armor that Erlina had procured for us. It was a weak disguise, but better than marching in and announcing our presence to Howe's guards.

Alistair stood before the four of us, glaring. I had decided on a smaller party in order to attract less attention. Four guards in the company of a maid could make a reasonable excuse.

"I do not like this, Salem." he said, his tone indicating that this would be his last warning.

"Nor do I." I smiled, roguish. He did not seem amused. Leliana cinched the last buckle and I walked to the only other warden in Ferelden, drawing him aside. "Alistair, listen. We need this. No matter the outcome, we need to have tried."

He pursed his lips and nodded, understanding my position. "But why?" he asked. "Why do you always leave me on the sidelines?"

I rested my hand on his arm. "You are more important to Ferelden than I could ever be." I told him the truth, my truth for him. "I am the last living member of a noble house that will not be remembered. You are the son of our king. Even if you do not take the crown, this land, our land, needs _you_."

"I do not see how you can believe that." he said, doubting himself, as he had when first we met.

"Couslands have an eye for potential." I assured him.

He slanted his eyes at me. "I am not certain I should believe you. You were blind for quite a spell."

_At last! A stalemate broken!_ I thought, rejoicing in my private victory. _Perhaps things between us will mend, after all._ "Even so." I laughed. "Please trust me on this as you have in other times, Alistair. I _need_ you beside me now. Ferelden needs the two of us united. Without that, we stand no chance of victory."

He smiled, wan, his eyes becoming those of the meek puppy. "I am beginning to think I never had a choice in this matter…in any matter, really. Consider me your right hand, Salem. I am with you in this, at your side, until the end."

_Thank you, Maker. Thank you, Alistair._ Overcome with emotion, I embraced my warden brother. He wrapped his arms around me. "Thank you." I whispered, knowing again that my words were too weak, incapable of expressing my relief and gratitude.

He withdrew from my arms and smiled. "This is only until I wear the crown." he said. "Then, Cousland, I own you."

I smiled at his feigned arrogance and performed an awkward, armored curtsey. "As you say, King Alistair."

The warden sobered. "Come back safely, Salem."

"No promises." I winked at him, attempting to alleviate his fears and conceal my own.

All assembled knew we were most assuredly walking into a trap. However, we had no way to go but forward, and, on the off-chance that Anora could be sympathetic to our cause…we could not disregard such a powerful ally. After all, the young queen had carried the country on her shoulders while her legend-enamored husband, eager to outshine his father, had played at war.

_If Cailan could have carried half of the burden Alistair has borne, he would have been a much better king_, I thought, reviling myself. _Of course, to think such thoughts of a king, even one deceased, is against everything my House and family stood for. I have betrayed the Cousland name. Perhaps it was well within Fate's mandates that my title be stripped. I cannot be bound by such a strict code now._

I flung a salute in Alistair's direction and followed Erlina to Howe's estate. Leliana slipped in step beside me. "Is all well?" she asked.

I glanced back at the portcullis, watching the dejected warden absently scratch Burrow's ears. "He has accepted what he needs to do." I answered. "He told me, in his roundabout way, that he will take the throne."

"I am sorry, Salem." Leliana whispered, keeping our conversation from Wynne and Morrigan, and, more importantly, Erlina.

I nodded, understanding her apology. "I do not like forcing a man to submit to chains." I told her. "Especially those fraught with such weight and expectation. But Alistair has risen to every challenge we have faced. He will not cower before this one."

"It is your faith in him that makes this so." Leliana squeezed my hand. "It is your faith in all of us that keeps us together. It will be that faith which saves this country and slays the Archdemon."

I looked at her, unable to comprehend the magnitude of _her_ faith. "How you can believe in me to this extent baffles my mind, Leliana."

She laughed, lighting the air with music. "You did not watch a blind woman slay a dragon, my warden."

_On the note of slaying dragons…_my thoughts drifted to dark places. I knew where we were going; Leliana did as well. I did not wish to dance around the flames any longer. "Leliana…I wish to ask…a difficult favor."

She sobered, sensing my shift in mood. "Yes, love?"

"Should we encounter Arl Howe…I beg you…" _Maker, how can I ask this of her_, "…support my decision, no matter the outcome." I used the words she had said to me in Denerim the first time, when she and I had faced Marjolaine. "Let me make this choice for myself."

Her eyes darkened, remembering when she had said those words to me. "You…" _she knows_, "you are asking me to let you go."

"Yes. Please, Leliana."

We walked under the archway that led to Howe's estate and the air thickened with tension, the promise of battle and betrayal. I whispered a silent prayer for protection for those I loved, and I begged the ancient gods, those who believed in vengeance, to grant me the blood of my enemy.

Leliana reached out, touching my skin one last time before we entered the lion's den. "So beautiful and cruel." she smiled, sorrowful. "I promise."


	8. Chapter 8

**Leliana**

Erlina guided us to the servant's entrance of Howe's estate. She rested her hand on the door, looking this way and that, wary.

I frowned in disapproval. _She is going to give us away if she persists in being surreptitious and looking guilty._

Anora's maid opened the door and signaled us to follow. Salem entered first, adjusting the visor of her helmet. Normally, she did not wear such things, but the new scar on her cheek had made her quite conspicuous.

Morrigan and Wynne followed, playing their role as house domestics. I stifled a giggle as I glanced back. The witch had been _furious_ when forced to don an apron. She had only submitted after Salem physically restrained her and a giggling Wynne had tied the strings.

_Who would ever have thought that the stubborn witch of the wilds could be brought to heel? _I smiled, looking to Salem. _You, my love, are a worker of miracles. _

"Through here," Erlina directed us through a banquet hall filled with off-duty guards. The maid's shoulders tightened as we walked through and she stared at the floor.

_You are going to get us killed!_ my mind shrieked. _Unless, of course, this is part of the trap. Maker's breath, why are all the roads set before us lined with thorns on one side and shattered glass on the other?_

We exited the dining area, entering a long hallway. A single door stood where the hall turned a corner. Erlina's pace quickened and the rest of us followed.

"My lady?" she whispered against the door. "My lady, it is Erlina."

_**This**__ is where they are "holding her prisoner"?_ I mused, examining the door. _This room opens into the main thoroughfare of the estate, and there is but the one lock. Keeping her here is akin to treeing a kitten and convincing it that it is helpless to escape. Are we being played for fools?_

"Leliana," Salem turned to me, "can you pick the lock?"

"Child's play." I replied, reaching into my belt for my picks.

I knelt down and reached towards the lock.

"Not so fast." Morrigan laid her hand on my shoulder. "This door is magically sealed. If you touch it, you will be ripped apart. Unless the seal is removed, of course."

_And you, of course, felt the need to speak only when my fingers were a hairsbreadth away._

"Then remove the seal." Salem growled, clearly unhappy with the witch.

"'Tis not my handiwork." Morrigan drawled. "Neither I nor Wynne could undo it no matter what we might attempt."

"Damn it." Salem cursed. "Anora." she stepped as close to the door as possible. "Anora, it's Salem Cousland. I've come to help."

"Cousland?" the queen's voice, though muffled, was quizzical. "Erlina, you told me that _the warden_ had agreed to help us."

The elf flushed to the tips of her ears. "Calm yourself, Anora." Salem ordered, shocking me.

_I cannot believe she speaks to the queen in this manner! There is something here that I have missed. _

"I am that warden." Salem spoke again. "The door is sealed by magic. Where can I find the mage who holds the spell?"

"Damn that man!" Anora's distorted shout. "Howe keeps his pet mages near him at all times, Salem. And you will like as not find _him_ in the dungeon."

"Of course." Salem's eyes lit and her voice dripped with bloodthirst.

_Do not lose yourself to this, my love. Please, do not discard the heart I have seen you open. Do not forsake that beauty. _

"Give me time, Anora." Salem spoke. "I will come back for you."

"Keep safe, Salem." the queen urged.

Salem turned her fearsome gaze on Erlina, who quailed from it. "Where will I find the dungeon?" she asked.

"D…down the hall, you will find a staircase there. It will lead you to the dungeons."

Salem rested an authoritative hand the elf's shoulder. "You should go." my warden dismissed her. "I will deliver her to you unscathed."

"What," Morrigan asked as we continued down the hall, "in seven hells, was _that_? Do all nobles feel free to address their queen as their equal?"

_I meant to ask the same question._

Salem's eyes drifted back, deep into her past. She smiled at times gone by. "Upon a time, Anora and I were friends. But that was before the war with Orlais ended; when Mac Tir, Theirin, and Cousland were all equal. Loghain desired the throne, but Ferelden wanted Maric. So Loghain grasped at power the only way he could, by proposing a match between Cailan and Anora."

"And your friendship ended there?" Wynne inquired. "There seems more to it than that."

"Of course." Salem edged into a downward leading staircase. "It was little known and less spoken of that Theirin was the _second_ choice for king."

_But that would mean…_ "So you…you could have been…royalty?" I asked. As a bard, I had scrutinized the history and lineage of nobles. What Salem had just revealed was in none of them.

"Little chance of that," Wynne interjected, "Bryce Cousland being the man he was."

"He wanted peace." Salem said as we continued down. "A quiet life with his family and his land. He wished to refuse the title they did give him. Regardless, the fact that Loghain, the war hero, was overlooked, _twice_…Mac Tir and Cousland have been at odds ever since. And girlhood friendships are easily trampled when their fathers disagree."

Salem trailed off and my heart grew heavy. _You were close to her…and the machinations of a jealous man took that from you. I am sorry, Salem. However, there is a chance that this will work in our favor. If Anora share's your sentiments, perhaps this trap will not be effectually sprung. _

We entered the dungeon and I shuddered. The scent of blood, death, and filth hung heavy in the air. _Why did I insist on coming here with her? I…I have never lost my fear of such places. This is a house of death and I not wish to be here._

I found myself edging closer to Salem, needing her strength, craving it. I averted my eyes from the cells, even those that were empty. I knew them all too well, the dried blood on the floor, the rancid piles of straw, the skittering of rats.

A guard stood at the end of the row of cells. He turned to face us, set eyes on Salem, and frowned.

"You there." he called. "Why have you brought servants to the dungeon?"

"Teyrn Howe's orders." Salem answered, disguising her voice.

"The teyrn would order no such thing. No one but him and the guards are permitted entrance to the dungeon. Remove your helmet."

I reached for my daggers with trembling hands. Salem sighed and did as she was ordered. Her dark, thick hair tumbled into place and Howe's guard saw the tell-tale scar.

"It's the warden!" he shouted. I tried to pull my knives, but my fingers shook too badly.

Salem unsheathed her swords when a pair of hands reached through the bars of a cell and grabbed the guard, dragging him against the door. Strong hands snapped the guards neck and the body slumped to the floor with a sickening thud.

"Well that was…fortuitous." Morrigan quipped.

"Stay here." Salem ordered as she approached the cell.

I leaned against the wall, trying to conceal the fact that my entire body was trembling. The warning had been sounded; more soldiers were on the way. If we were captured…_oh Maker, no. Not again. I cannot live through that again. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Salem**

I approached the cell, keeping my distance from the bars. _An efficient kill_, I nudged the body on the floor with my boot. _And an unusual show of strength from a prisoner._

I stood before the cell, examining the man before me. We were of a height, but he seemed shorter, keeping his posture diminutive in an obvious effort to draw attention away. His face had not seen a razor in some time and unruly black hair tumbled to his shoulders. He met my gaze, shocked, but unflinching.

_There is something…familiar…about him. I feel as though we have met._

"You are the warden, no?" he asked in a thick, Orlesian accent. "I mean you no harm."

"Then give me your name." I answered, still wary. His body showed few signs of abuse; I had no way of knowing if our savior would turn traitor.

"I am Riordan of Orlais." he replied.

"That tells me nothing." the walls echoed with faint shouts. The unfortunate guard's warning had alerted the others.

"Has Duncan taught you nothing?" Riordan demanded, grasping the bars. "Can you not even sense one of your own?"

_He __**is**__ a Grey Warden_, realization struck me. _This is why I do not feel as a stranger to him. _"Leliana," I called to my bard, "I need you."

She approached me, moving at a slow, unsteady pace. _Maker's breath!_ I ran my eyes over her body, frowning. _She looks as though she has seen a ghost...far too pale. _Again, realization struck. _Ancient gods and heavens! I did not even think…a dungeon. Damn me…I have dragged her into hell._

"Leli." I caught her as she stumbled. Her eyes were wide and choked with nightmares. "Leliana, look at me." She did not seem to hear.

I placed my hands against her cheeks and drew her forehead to mine. "Leliana, _listen_ to me." I stressed. "I am here, with you, and I _need_ you with me. Now." There were tears in her eyes. I hugged her to me. "I will not let them take you." I promised, fierce. "Even if I must forego my own vengeance, I swear I _will_ keep you safe." _Maker's blood, you're freezing. _Her body shivered in my arms.

"I…I'm all right." her voice quavered, but at least she spoke. "What do you need of me?"

"I need this man's cell unlocked." I reached into her belt and retrieved her picks. "He is a Grey Warden."

Leliana pursed her lips into a thin line and set herself to the task. The minute trembling of her fingers did not go unnoticed.

Riordan folded his arms, clearly displeased by my display of affection. I bored into him with my gaze.

"Duncan is dead." I informed the warden. "Since Ostagar. Alistair and I are the only wardens in this country."

Grief passed over Riordan's face as the door to his cell swung open. Leliana retreated to my side.

"Thank you." the former prisoner acknowledged.

"You are most welcome." Leliana lifted her chin, refusing to show her fear before a stranger.

"Take the guard's armor and disguise yourself, then make your way to the estate of Arl Eamon. You will find Alistair there."

"You left the only other warden _behind_?" Riordan raised his voice as though he were a senior officer, and I his lower ranking adjutant.

"Stand. Down." I warned him. "Your order has done _nothing_ to aid in the Blight. In Weisshaupt you may be my senior, but here, my orders are law."

Riordan glowered at me. "Duncan always sought out upstarts. Very well then. I will meet you again at the estate of this Arl."

"Go." _I do not think he and I will agree on much of anything._

"Are you certain that was wise?" Morrigan watched Riordan depart.

"Wise or not, _that_ is the way it will be." I stated. "I _have not_ been dragged through hell to be undermined by a stranger in the final days."

"This is vastly becoming unimportant." Wynne gestured to the far room. The door opened and more of Howe's guards rushed into the dungeon.

I drew my swords; felt Leliana's icy fingers wrap around my arm. She looked up at me in worry. I covered her hand with my own. _She is in no condition to fight.__  
_

"Stay behind Wynne and Morrigan." I told her, moving into the main room.

I looked at Wynne, the only other person who knew the entirety of Leliana's story. The healer nodded, understanding my voiceless plea.

_Keep her safe._

I stormed into the midst of Howe's guards, letting my darker heart take hold. We had not seen true battle since we left the Frostback mountains. The last time I had fought, I had been blind, hesitant, unable to strike with surety. Not so anymore.

_I am coming for you, Howe,_ satisfaction filled me as I cut through a man's gorget and into his neck.

"Capture, do not kill!" the captain of the guard shouted.

_Howe, you fool_. I bared my teeth in a blood-thirsty smile. "Kill them all!"

"Salem, down!" Morrigan yelled.

I dropped to the ground and felt heat wash over me. Howe's men shrieked as Morrigan's flames ate through their armor and into their skin. I rose from the ground, staring at the burning bodies. I danced between them, stabbing, slicing, dismembering. Their deaths were but the beginning.

_I will strip away everything that keeps you safe, Rendon Howe. I will remove every surety you have. You will feel as helpless as I did the night you stole **everything** I held dear._

The captain stood near the door, sword held in quivering hands. Most soldiers had seen magic used in battle; few had ever beheld the fury of a witch of the wilds in unabashed, unapologetic, apostate glory. I raised my blade to the captain's throat. His own weapon clattered to the ground.

"Look at me." I growled.

He met my eyes and his mouth opened in wordless terror. "D…demon." he stuttered.

"Demon?" I pushed the tip of my sword into his throat and twirled the blade, watching it tear a hole in the man's flesh. "Perhaps. Answer me, captain, do you want to live?"

He nodded.

"Tell me where Howe is, and keep your life." I offered.

"The…the level below." his shaking fingers pointed to another staircase. "He…he keeps two mages with him at all times."

"Thank you," I continued twisting the blade. "Maker's blessings on your house."

The captain's eyes went wide, a mixture of terror and betrayal as I forced my sword through his neck, severing his spine. Blood fountained out and the body collapsed to the ground. I smiled, watching scarlet puddle on the floor.

I turned to my companions, ignoring the shock on their faces. I did not care if they had heard my lies. This was my time for vengeance. This was the reason I had forced myself to stay alive.

_At last, those who perished in Highever will rest in peace. Blood for blood, Howe. I will end you._


	10. Chapter 10

**Leliana**

_Have I lost you already?_ Salem turned towards us, her face spattered with blood, her teeth bared, her eyes aglow with hatred. I shrank away as she neared us, cowering away from her gaze. I had seen that look before, in the eyes of the men who had taken their delight in destroying me.

"Is everyone all right?" she asked, her voice worlds away from the Salem I had known, the Salem who had comforted me not moments ago when she realized my terror.

"We are well." Wynne answered, moving to stand before me, to protect me from the one person I never thought I would fear.

"Good." her smile widened and the torchlight glinted off of her teeth, menacing. "Howe is on the lower level."

"Then we should go." Wynne and Morrigan started for the stairway.

I moved to join them when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. "Leliana," Salem spoke in that foreign tone that chilled my blood, "you can wait, if you like. I will not make you go further."

_And be here…alone. No. No. I cannot do this. Salem,_ I risked looking at her, flinched, _Salem, please. I need your gentleness now as much as I need your strength. Forgive me, for I know I am a burden and a hindrance, but if…if you love me…do not become what I see before me…a woman who would kill more readily than save. That is __**not**__ who you are._

"No." I managed to speak, keeping my eyes downcast. "I will be all right."

"Are you certain?"

I nodded, relief flooding me as her hand left my body and returned to her sword. _I never thought…I never thought that I would see such an emotionless void in you. I know what I said, Salem, that I would not question your decision, that I would rein in my tongue and let you have your vengeance. But it is changing you…what if you never return from this?_

I followed her, watching her long, purposeful strides, the set of her shoulders. _No, _a wave of resolve began to drown my fears. _I will not cower in a corner and watch as she destroys herself. Salem has been my strength for so long. She will face a breaking point, as I did with Marjolaine on the coast. She will be forced to decide between vengeance and her own identity. If…if she loses herself…I must be able to continue._

Before descending the stairs, Salem glanced over her shoulder, seeking me out. I offered her a slight smile, the most I could manage. She returned it, and for a flicker of time, the spark of hatred dimmed.

_Let me be enough. Dear Maker, let me be a promise for her to come back to. _

I followed behind her and Wynne grasped my hand. "Are you all right, Leliana?" she asked.

Wordless, I shook my head. I did not know what to say. _I, too, have many questions. Where are my answers, Wynne? _

I wanted Salem. I wanted her by my side, whispering reassurances, making me forget that I was surrounded by dungeon walls, deafening my ears to the ghosts of screams and agonized confessions. But she was not with me. She had faded back to that dark night in Highever, before she even knew of my existence.

_Do I exist to her now? Can you even see me, my love? Can you hear as your every departing footfall smears my heart into the ground?_

I remained a little farther behind as we moved down the staircase. "Gather your wits." I spoke to myself, harsh. "You are letting your fear turn to anger and…and she does not deserve it."

I summoned what little strength I could find and joined the others. The staircase emptied into a large room. Instruments of torture hung from the support pillars. I cringed away from them, knowing their uses, every scar on my body twinging as I recalled what made it.

"Howe!" Salem's shout echoed across the stone floor.

The serpent-faced man turned to face us. "Cousland's brat?" he asked in that grating, urbane tone. My flesh crawled.

_This is a man who delights in pain._ I saw it in his eyes, knew it from experience. _He is a weak man granted power, and he will take that to any extreme. _

"And your ending." that haze had entered her eyes again, murderous rage and fierce intent.

"My ending?" Howe scoffed. "No, child. You are far beyond your depth here."

Salem strode forward, swords at the ready. "I could descend into the depths of hell and still not reach your low, Howe." there was heat in her voice, too much.

_She is walking in blind. The captain of the guard said that Howe is never without his mages. I do not see them…a trap within a trap._

"_Salem_!" I shrieked, my voice at last above a whisper.

She turned to look at me as fire flooded the center of the room. Salem dropped to the floor and rolled away from the flames as Howe drew a monstrous sword with a serrated edge.

_This is not how this will end_. I vowed, my hands at last able to grip the hilts of my weapons. I drew my blades and dashed into the room as Wynne and Morrigan staved off the attacks of Howe's pet mages.

Salem got to her feet as the fire died. Howe walked to her at his leisure as a flurry of razor sharp ice spun through the room. I ducked behind a pillar, placing a hand to my stinging cheek. My fingers came away red. I caught side of an enemy mage as he raised his staff.

Taking advantage, I rushed him, my blade sliding through his robes and into his skin with ease. The staff clattered to the floor and I smiled, watching his eyes haze over with death. A wolf's howl echoed through the room and I knew the other mage had met his end at the edge of Morrigan's teeth.

I joined Wynne at the foot of the staircase, watching as Howe and Salem circled each other. My strength left me and my hands trembled once more. However, it was not memories that made them do so.

I looked at Salem, the set of her jaw, the feral, blood-mongering animal inside her eyes of death. A single tear crept from my eye and burned as it scored the cut on my cheek.

I reached out to Wynne for support and she wrapped an arm about me, understanding what was, and what might be.

_Good-bye, _my thoughts whispered as swords clashed, _my love._


	11. Chapter 11

**Salem**

_What in hell?_ I rolled under Howe's monstrous sword, dodging the wicked, serrated edge. _That blade is larger than he is!_

"Cede this battle, brat!" Howe attempted an insult. "You are a thorn in Ferelden's side! You are _crippling_ your country!"

_Keep silent,_ I forced myself, focusing on Howe's blade, not his words. _This is a battle I __**must**__ win. So that the dead may rest. So that my soul will know peace._

"Say something!" Howe shrieked, ill-at-ease with my silence.

His sword swung down and I blocked it with my offhand blade. The serrated edge caught my weapon. With a sharp twist, Howe flung my sword away. He followed with a heavy slash to my right arm, blade screeching through my armor and tearing into my skin.

I hissed as Howe pulled his sword away, drenched with first blood. Hatred bubbled through me as Howe's eyes lit with sadistic glee.

_Give in_, my darker voice whispered as the scent of blood struck the air. _Forego reserve, abandon nobility. Kill. _

I transferred my remaining sword to my left hand, caught off-guard by its weight. I grinned, feral, disguising my new handicap.

"Say something?" I asked, watching my enemy circle. "What do you want me to say?"

I stepped forward, swinging my blade up with an underhanded strike. Howe dodged back and I switched the direction of my blade mid-strike, grazing his cheek with the tip of my blade. I pressed the attack as I saw shock in his eyes.

"Do you want me angry?" I asked as our swords collided. "Do you want me to scream out a litany of your crimes? Do you desire a tearful child, Howe? That girl is dead." _A__ll innocence perished._

I parried Howe's frantic thrust, stumbling as the room swerved and jerked before my vision. _Losing...blood_.

Latching on to my hatred, forsaking all else, I felt strength surge through me. I began hacking at him, merciless.

"You killed me!" I shouted, pressing Howe against one of the pillars. Chains hung from the stone and I smiled as a plan formed.

I darted in, rendering Howe's sword useless, ramming my gauntleted fist against his face. He fell into the pillar, stunned. Moving faster than I thought possible, I reached for the chains, locking the manacles around Howe's wrists and dashing his blade from his grip.

I leaned in close, a hunter before helpless prey. "You killed me." I said again, low, vicious.

"Release me!" Howe strained against his restraints. "Unhand me, you bitch! I am a noble of Ferelden!"

"_So was I_!" I backhanded him, satisfied as the cut on his cheek ripped open further. "Before you killed me, I had never taken human life! Without your damned interference, I would still be noble; I _would still be pure_!"

"You bitch-born whore!" Howe spat in my face and I struck him again. "I am glad I put your family down like the rabid dogs they are!"

"Do. Not. Speak." I warned him, pressing a knife to his throat. _Cease talking, and I will give you a humane death. Then, with a guiltless heart, I can return to the ones I love, and finish this._

I glanced back at my companions, watching Morrigan's approving smile, Wynne's worry, and Leliana's…devastating sorrow.

_She is afraid_. I realized, feeling the fire in my heart begin to calm. _Howe will die,_ I turned back to him, _a quick, painless death. I will not force Leliana to watch me lose my humanity. _

"I did it myself." Howe's oily voice slipped over my shoulders and down my spine.

"What?"

"I tied her up." Howe laughed, deep and maniacal. "Your brother's Orlesian whore. I bound her hands and gagged her. Then, my men held her eyes open as I slit the boy's throat. I forced her to watch as her child bled out, then left, giving my soldier's the joy of her body. They raped her over her child's corpse."

My entire body began shaking as I felt blood drain from my face. _You vile, soulless…there are no words that encompass the __**evil**__ in your heart._ Without thinking, I jammed my knife into his gut and twisted the blade, keeping it inside his body.

"_Why_?" I growled, slowly rotating the blade, tearing his insides apart.

Howe smiled, knowing that he had gained control. "Because the Couslands _bred_." he snarled. "You mingled Fereldan blood with the blood of the country that _enslaved_ us. _What greater treason is there?_"

_That_, I struck Howe in the face, cherishing the scream as his nose broke_, is your __**reason**__!? You massacred __**innocents**__ because my brother found his love and bore a __**child**__?!_

"Cousland," Howe grimaced at the name, still speaking as blood colored his teeth, "_betrayed_ Ferelden. For all your vaunted nobility, your heralded loyalty, you are _nothing_ but vile, _filthy __**heretics**_!"

Fury fissured through my veins and I jerked his knife from my body. "I told you," I hissed, reaching into his mouth and pulling out his tongue, "not to speak."

I laid my blade against his tongue and began slicing with slow, shallow strokes. Howe writhed against the chains, straining to break free of my grasp. I held firm as blood and saliva coated my fingers and the acrid scent of fear choked me. An animal's cry shredded out of his throat.

"You will die here." I promised him, rocking the blade back and forth, forth and back. Howe's face grew pale. "And I swear to you, your children will suffer, Rendon Howe. Any who cross my path and bear your name will know _unspeakable_ torment before they die."

Howe's eyes widened with fear, but pain and blood loss had weakened his body. He could no longer resist me. I had bound him as he had bound Oriana. I would exact from him in skin and bone what had been taken from me. I slid the knife a little deeper and Howe whimpered.

"Shhh." I soothed. "It will be over soon." Howe's eyes began to roll back and I stopped my bladed ministrations. "No no no." I smiled and gentled my voice. "You do not get to stop feeling yet. You are blessed, Howe. Your pain will end. Mine goes on, from here into eternity. Consider this a kindness."

Howe's half-severed tongue twitched in my grasp and I chuckled, low. "Good, good." I encouraged. "Stay awake with me. Your life is not yet over."

A strong hand iced around my wrist, immobilizing my weapon hand. "Salem. Stop."

I gazed into the ocean depths of Leliana's eyes. _I do not have time for this._ "Let me go." I warned her.

"No." her voice, if possible, was colder than mine. "_Look_ at him, Salem. What do you see?"

I flicked my eyes to Howe. "A murderer. A rapist. A less-than-human monster who deserves death."

"Death, _yes_." she agreed. "Torture, no. I know I am breaking my word; I said I would not interfere, but this _is **not** who you are_. Please, my love."

Howe's eyes flared at the endearment, flashing with murderous intent. "Yes, Howe." I sneered. "Another Cousland heretic in love with an Orlesian. How you must wish your hands were free."

"Salem!" Leliana brought my attention back to her. "If you persist in this you will lose _everything!_ You have built a life from the ruins of what Howe left behind! Are you willing to sacrifice _**all that you have become**_ to cause him pain!? Are..." her voice lowered, choked with tears, "are you willing to sacrifice me?"

I stared at my bard. "Look at him, Leliana!" I screamed, furious with her for holding me back. "You _heard_ him confess! He _murdered _a six year old _child_! He left my sister-in-law to be _**raped **__and __**murdered**_! _How_ can you stay my hand?! _How_ can you say this is_** undeserved**_!?"

"Because I _was_ raped!" she countered, fierce yet fearful. "And I had the chance to gain my revenge on the one who caused me _**untold suffering**_. You," her voice quavered with sorrow and anxiety, "you became my vengeance and you died for my crimes. Let me be your redemption, my warden. Mete justice, not vengeance. Take his life; end your suffering."

_And mine…_her eyes pleaded with the words she left unsaid.

_Leliana…_I stared into her eyes and felt my rage falter…_I want to hold you after the world ends. I want to remain at your side for the rest of my limited breath. You…you have never asked such a thing of me before. You have never intervened…if I continue this, I will sacrifice too much of myself. So much that you will no longer know me to love me. And I…I cannot die again. I could not break my skin and I __**will not**__ slay my soul._

"A…As you say." _I love you._

I released my grip on Howe's tongue and Leliana relinquished my wrist. Howe gasped and I readied my blade.

"Blood for blood, Howe." I told him. "Cousland rests in peace."

With that, I drew the knife across his throat. Rendon Howe departed this life with a gurgling rasp. At last, my family's killer had met with…justice.

The room spun and the awareness of pain returned as strength flooded out of me. I swayed on my feet and Leliana gathered me in her arms.

"Thank you." she whispered, over and over again.

_I owe you my sanity_, I hugged her, tight. _I love you, more than any hope of vengeance, more than any restitution. The dead are at rest; my life must go on. Blood for blood, yes. But love is worth far, far more. More, even_, I looked at Howe's collapsed, lifeless shell, _than vengeance._


	12. Chapter 12

**Leliana**

_You are safe now_, I did not know if those thoughts were for me, or for the trembling woman I held in my arms. _You are safe, and this is ended. Let it trouble you no further._

Salem pulled away, keeping her hands on my shoulders to steady herself. "Are you all right?" her voice was hoarse. "Were you hurt?"

"No." I assured her. "We are well, Salem."

Relief crossed her features and she turned to Wynne and Morrigan, taking great care to avoid looking at Howe's lifeless body. "Howe's mages?"

"Dead and gone." Morrigan retrieved Salem's offhand blade and delivered it with a theatrical bow. "All magic they worked will certainly be undone by that."

"Then we should fetch Anora." Salem returned her mind to the task at hand. "I have cost us enough time as it stands."

"'Twas time well spent." Morrigan spat in the direction of Howe's body, an uncharacteristic show of support for my warden.

Salem looked at me, tenderness masking the death in her eyes for the briefest of moments. "Nonetheless, I have kept you here too long."

It seemed as though she addressed all of us, but I knew she meant her words for me. I had watched her surrender to her darker heart…and it had made me break my promise. I had always sworn, first to myself and then to my lover, that I would not interfere, should she ever cross paths with the man who had destroyed her life.

_But that…what she was doing…I could not countenance such treatment. I have known men like Howe; have been ruined by them. And Marjolaine…I wished to show her mercy. I am not displeased by her death, but I do wonder what might have happened if she could have sought redemption. _

I glanced at Howe's body, held up only by the chains that bound him to the pillar. Blood dripped from his mouth, from his slit throat, from the wicked, gaping hole Salem had left in his stomach. Instruments of torture were suspended above him, an egregious, ironic monument.

A shudder rippled through me and I reached out for Salem's arm, needing her support once more. My warden hissed and pulled away.

_Maker's blood. What have I done? Perhaps I did overstep…_ "Salem, have I…"

"It's all right." she spoke through clenched teeth. "Howe's blade…"

"You're hurt." I realized, walking her into the light of a flickering torch.

There was a fearsome gash in her armor, sheared metal flecked with blood. I hastily removed the pauldron, examining the damage to her arm. Her shirt was soaked scarlet, a dark slice across her bicep.

"Here." Wynne spoke from behind me, handing me a roll of bandages. "Bind the wound."

"You cannot heal…"

"We haven't time." Wynne responded, gently nudging me out of her way and beginning to wrap Salem's arm. "And chances stand that Howe's blade splintered her armor. If there is metal in the cut, it must be removed before a spell could cleanly and safely close the wound."

"And were that not the case," Morrigan added, "it is unwise to attempt to heal Salem when further skirmishes are certain."

"Hold your tongue, witch." Salem growled as Wynne tightly knotted the bandage.

Salem did not wish her weaknesses exposed, even if she knew them full well. Her strange reaction to healing magic was a great detriment to her safety. More often than not, the pain she experienced from Wynne's spells caused her to lose consciousness.

The senior enchanter released Salem from her ministrations and she and Morrigan headed for the staircase. I turned to follow them, feeling Salem's arm wrap around my waist.

"Forgive me." she whispered. "The pain caught me unaware. I apologize if you inferred…" she trailed off, uncertain of what to say.

_That you were angry with me? I still do not know where you are in this moment. I am worried for you, my love. I am worried that my actions impeded the healing of your soul, that in my fear I overreached my boundaries. _

"Salem, about Howe…"

"This is not the time." she interrupted, steel in her voice. "Are you truly well, Leliana? You're trembling."

_Damn it._ I clenched my fists, angry that my body would not stop betraying the thoughts in my mind. "I am shaken." I answered, shielding my face behind my hair. I did not want her to know the reason, not outright. "But standing."

I stole a quick glance at her face; saw her eyes gazing forward into the future, into the mission. Only the crease in her brow betrayed her guilt; her fear that her actions had back-spiraled me into hell.

_Again?_ Guilt tore at my heart. _Again she takes a share of the blame. My love, you are not at fault. It is my eyes that are damaged in this place. It is my heart that founders. _

"Salem!" Morrigan's call echoed down the stairway and my warden rushed away from my side, drawing her blades, once again preparing for battle. I stumbled at the loss of her support, fear gripping my heart. I felt as though a phantom hand strangled me.

I grasped at the wall as my knees buckled. The nightmares in my mind flashed before my eyes and suddenly it was I, not Howe, chained to that pillar, metal protruding from my body, blood dripping from between my lips, Salem's knife spinning in my gut.

I laid my hand against the scar of Marjolaine's betrayal, crying out as phantom pain sliced through my body. I crashed to the ground, bruising my knees, listening to the ghosts of my screams, remembering the sensation of sundered skin and mutilated innocence.

Salem's blue eyes hovered in front of my swimming vision, glittering with death and shining with sadistic desire.

* * *

_I close my eyes but the vision does not leave, instead I feel the cold of steel against my wrists, frigid air on my naked body, warmth known only from the blood that oozes down my skin. Salem steps closer to me, a feral grin stamped on her features. _

"_Why so sorrowful, nightingale?" she asks, Marjolaine's words in her harsh accent. "Why do you gaze at me with fear instead of love?"_

"_You…you are not real." I whisper, I __**beg**__._

"_Am I not?" she smiles. "Did you not see me? Lost to my hatred, awash with vengeance. You may have stopped me from exacting my torment on Howe, but this does not mean you are forgiven."_

"_Wha…" my voice catches, breaks, "…what does it mean?"_

_She leans in close, tracing my cheek with frigid fingers that smell like blood. "It means that in sparing Howe...you saved his torment for yourself."_

_Cold…sharp…the scent of burned flesh fills the air as Salem pours molten metal on the back of my neck, letting it trace its way across my naked flesh…_

* * *

"Leliana." I felt a warm hand; heard a voice, thick with worry. "Leliana, come back to me."

"S…Salem?" I asked, bewildered. _What…where am I? What is happening?_

"Yes, dear heart. Can you stand?"

I looked into her eyes; deep blue edged with concern and…love. Ever present love. "I…I think so."

Salem took my hands, helping me to my feet, steadying my body with her own. "We are freeing Anora and we are getting out of here." she spoke to the others. "If we meet with any more of Howe's men, send them to hell."

Wynne and Morrigan took the lead, Salem followed behind, half-carrying me. _I'm sorry,_ I felt my heart falter with self-loathing. _I am more a hindrance than a help. _

As if she sensed my thoughts, Salem drew me closer to her. _How?_ I wondered. _How can you care for one who is crippling your mission at every turn? How can you not revile me for my weakness?_

"You…you came back." I whispered, awe in my voice.

"Always." she answered, unable to hide her grief.

_But for what do you grieve? My pain…or your lost vengeance. I do not know any longer._

The sounds of battle echoed further ahead and Salem tensed, anxious to help the mages, but unwilling to leave my side. The skirmish ended with a flash of light and Morrigan's derisive laughter. Salem relaxed and I berated myself.

"None of that, Leliana." Salem smiled down at me. "We found what we came for. This is but the aftermath. Keep strong, dear heart. We are almost through this."

_But will you be there…at the end…when I am no longer weak, and you can feel free to hate me?_


	13. Chapter 13

**Salem**

_Hold on_, I begged Leliana with my mind, afraid to shatter her with the words. _Hold on. The end is near. Together, later, I promise, I __**swear**__, we will be able to collapse, weep, share each other's anguish and mend each other's wounds. I will not fail you, heart's dearest. You have saved my life and my soul; I will not hold the breaking of your vow against you. Stay strong._

On impulse, I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple, a silent prayer for forgiveness and, I hoped, an assurance that all would be well between us, that no irreparable damage had been done. She gave me a quizzical look, eyes filled with fear, shoulders bunched and neck knotted with tension.

_Maker's breath…_the lines of tears stood out in stark relief on her pale skin, but she did not even seem to notice them. _I should never have brought you with me. I swear, if I had known, I would have made you remain behind…although, _I smiled, _you would have fought against that with every breath. _

Wynne and Morrigan rejoined us and I raked them with critical eyes. "Well?"

Morrigan answered with a catty smile. "You have spent too much time in the company of the buffoon. The circle mage and I have fended off our own enemies before there was a stalwart warden to charge into battle alongside us. You need not think us helpless without you."

"I would not dream of it." I replied, deadpan.

Wynne said nothing, but flicked her gaze from me to Leliana, raising her eyebrows in an unvoiced query. _Is she all right?_ I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders. _I do not know. _

"How many were there?" I asked them.

"Four, five, 'tis non-important, by now. They rest with the Maker, or sleep with fishes, or whatever they believe happens at the cessation of life." Morrigan waved a dismissive hand. "You needn't worry, warden."

_This entire plan has gone to hell_, my disgruntled mind muttered. _And you have the gall to tell me I needn't worry? My lover is in anguish and my mind is split a thousand different directions. It will not be long until I splinter away from conscious thought and fade to a blackness darker than night. First, however, we must gain Anora's support, and that can only be garnered by freeing her. _

After what seemed an eternity, we emerged once more into the main hall of Howe's estate. We made our way to the door, Morrigan at our front, Wynne at our back, keeping watch lest more guards arrive.

"Well?" I asked the witch as she extended a glowing hand towards the door.

"The seal is gone." she confirmed.

One look at Leliana, and I knew she could scarcely remember her own name, let alone how to pick a lock. I shifted her to Wynne's embrace, hoping my touch was not too rough, my manner not overly dismissive.

I lifted my leg and kicked in the door. A muffled, feminine shriek greeted me as the lock snapped under the force. The door swung open and Anora, my former girlhood friend, rushed into my arms.

"Salem!" her voice sagged with relief. "Salem, I cannot believe it is you! How…did…what…"

"Howe's mages are dead." I pushed her away. This was not the time for such familiarity. I could not risk springing the trap before I got the others to safety.

"And the man himself?" she asked, eyes slanting with the cunning she had always possessed, yet always managed to keep hidden from those who had no need of seeing it.

"What do you think?" I snarled. "We need to move, now. Erlina is waiting for you outside the gates. You will be safe with Arl Eamon."

"Thank you, Salem, _bless_ you." she emphasized as we walked towards the main door of the estate. A more covert exit would require time we did not have. "My father has gone mad. As soon as I made a decision as queen that disagreed with his as regent, he had Howe imprison me. It was a miracle that Erlina managed to find me, moreso that she found you…a…Grey Warden. I would never have…"

"We can speak later." I quickened my pace, feeling as though death were on my heels.

The queen fell silent as we entered the main room. I drew my swords as guards rushed in from all sides. Wynne, Morrigan, Leliana, and Anora edged closer to the door, the mages protecting the bard and queen with threatening, outstretched staffs.

"Lower your weapons!" a bark echoed through the room. A tall, swarthy woman emerged from the throng of Howe's guards, leering at me.

_Ser Cauthrien_, I recognized her. A knight so fierce, so tenacious, so utterly dedicated to Anora's father that she had been gifted with the title of Loghain's Mabari. A gargantuan blade, nearly as tall as she, rested easily in her hands. It was rumored that even the strongest of men would falter if they attempted to wield it.

"Keep her safe!" I shouted to my mage companions.

Cauthrien laughed. "Keep her safe?" she asked, raising an elegant eyebrow. "The queen is quite safe, dear warden. Of that, you can rest assured."

_I knew that full well, bitch. Anora is not my concern. This is your trap, Loghain? _I looked around the room. There were at least thirty armored and armed men, probably more. _Very well. We shall see how this play ends._

"Keep your sword sheathed, Ser Cauthrien." I replied, keeping my voice calm. "We can sort this out peaceably."

Another laugh as the knight shook her head. "I am afraid those are not my orders. You have two choices, Warden Cousland. If you should attempt to secure your escape by force, I will take you and all of your companions captive, including the queen. Should you lay down your weapons and surrender, you alone will be taken into custody."

_We have a chance, _I thought, keeping my swords at the ready. _Leliana cannot fight, but between Morrigan's fire, Wynne's lightning, and my swords, we stand a chance of surviving…_

I glanced into my lover's eyes. They were wide, frantic…screaming. _We are greatly outnumbered…and if we should lose…no. No. __**No.**__ I will see you unscarred, dear heart. No hand shall mar you again if I can stand in its way._

I raised my blades out in front of me, watching Wynne and Morrigan lift their staffs. I stayed them with a minute shake of my head.

"Let them go." I opened my fingers, letting the weapons crash to the ground in a clatter of steel. _Maker, protect them_. "I surrender."

Sharp pain lanced through my skull and my legs gave out…Cauthrien laughing…an open door…

"_Salem, __**no!**__" _

…a heartbroken cry…


	14. Chapter 14

**Leliana**

"She. Did. _**What!**_?" Alistair thundered. I cowered away from his voice, remembering his words from the last time we were in Denerim.

_This…her…it's you, Leliana. You hurt her. And you let her get hurt._

"Keep your calm." Eamon rested his hand on the warden's shoulder, sounding every bit the concerned father. "There is naught we can do at the moment. I will survey our options in regards to diplomatic measures."

"Will…" my voice, which had returned to me in that horrific moment when one of Howe's men had slammed his sword against Salem's skull, quavered. "…will they…" _Maker, please no. I have known that hell; I have endured that torment. Please, such a thing is not for her, her body has been broken enough already, her soul sundered by ungentle storms._

"Salem is a noble of Ferelden." Eamon understood the question I could not finish. "It is against all laws set down to…torture…one of the nobility."

"'Tis a shame then," Morrigan quipped, "that her title has been stripped from her by those with more power." The witch's keen, amber eyes ripped into Eamon. "Or did you forget that delicious morsel of information? She is no noble in their eyes, only twice the traitor."

_I know the punishment for treason_, blood drained from my face and the room grew dark at the edges. _I know it all too well. Salem…how could you be so foolish, how __**could you**_?!

I felt a strong, warm arm around my waist, steadying the balance I did not realize I had lost. I looked into Wynne's watery blue eyes, heart breaking as I saw them surge with sympathy.

"Eamon, you have to do _something_!" Alistair pleaded, at loose ends.

The rest of our companions remained quiet, standing aside from the battle of wills and emotions. I wished, for a moment, that I could stand with them, that the woman I had just lost was simply the warden. It could not be so. Salem was my own heart, my truth, my faith…my love. I could not feign ignorance; could not pretend callousness. The one thing that was pure, that was mine, had been cruelly torn away from me...by Salem's own hand.

"Alistair, my hands are tied." Eamon reasoned with the younger man, whom he had once considered his son. "The most I could do is petition her release, but you know that will fall on deaf ears." Alistair opened his mouth and Eamon stayed him with a glare. "I will do _what I can_."

"Come, child." Wynne bade me as Eamon left for his office.

I followed, mute, body beginning to tremble once more. _Salem, why?_ I wondered. _Why did you surrender; why did you give yourself up? We could have defeated them…we could have won._

The senior enchanter led me into my room...the one I shared with Salem. Burrow trotted up to me, tongue lolling out, tail wagging, searching for his mistress.

I knelt down and took the dog's massive head in my hands. "She isn't here." I whispered, all my grief pouring out in the words. "She is not here."

The mabari backed away from me as though I had struck him, ears flat, head lowered. A keening, sorrowful wail issued from Burrow's throat and I felt my own tears. Wynne ushered the howling dog from the room and instructed a servant to take him to Eamon's kennels. At least there he would not disturb the household.

I watched the mabari be dragged away, wanting to be with him, under a wide, forgiving sky where I could split my lungs with screaming.

"She's gone, Wynne." I said, unable to keep silent, unable to internalize this as I had done with much of my pain. "I cannot believe…she is simply…gone…"

Wynne's weathered hand rested on my brow. "You have endured quite a trial," her tone gave me faint reminders of my mother, of Cecile. It warmed me. "You need to rest, Leliana."

I shook my head, vehement. "I cannot rest." I began pacing. "For all his good intent, we know Eamon will be able to do nothing. Alistair cannot jeopardize his standing at the Landsmeet. Morrigan could be captured by templars should anything be attempted…"

"What are you talking about, child?" Wynne asked.

My line of thought broken, I stared at the healer. "Salem, of course…I have to go back. Wynne, I have to get her out of Howe's dungeons. There is no other way." _By now, her body is probably too broken to attempt escape. Foolish, heedless, selfless **idiot!**__ Why did you not even try to fight?_

"You will do no such thing." Wynne's maternal instinct fled. She became the right hand of the First Enchanter, one of the most powerful mages in the land, as she glared at me. "Leliana, my dear, I do so hate to bring this to the forefront of your thoughts, but walking into that dungeon nearly fragmented your mind. It is a miracle Salem pulled you out of there with your sanity intact."

"I know that!" I raised my voice. "Every damned moment we were there, I knew I was endangering all of you. I _failed_, of that I am most _bitterly_ aware. It will not happen again. Not with her life hanging, so very precariously, in the balance."

_You do not know, Wynne. You do not know of the testament written into my body. You do not know of the nights spent shivering in anguish, wracked with fear, feeling the slowing of your breath, not as your body gives out, but as your mind slowly disintegrates into the murk of a despair so hideous there is no word for it. You have not felt the knives and flesh of wicked men against your skin, damaging, cutting, eating away at body and soul with every touch. _

"Is this what Salem would wish?" Wynne asked, lowering her tone. "Do you believe she would desire that you endanger your life and your sanity on some ill-planned scheme?"

_No…but she is not here to have a say in the matter. She. Is. __**Gone**__._ "That scarcely matters."

"It matters." Wynne said, matter-of-fact. "It matters to me. Do you remember her last missive, Leliana?"

_I do not…only her surrender…and that curious smile._ I shook my head, afraid of what Wynne might say next.

The healer looked me directly in the eyes. "The warden said 'keep her safe'."

"And we did." I responded, confused. "Anora is…" Realization slapped me across the face. "Maker's blood-soaked breath."

_Salem meant those words for __**me**__. She told Wynne and Morrigan to protect me…because she knew we could not win…and Cauthrien's terms dictated that if we resisted, all would be taken. Salem_, dim pain registered as I collapsed to my knees, no longer able to stand_, you __**smiled**__ when they struck you. You smiled because you knew I would be safe. You smiled because your skin alone would be broken, your mind alone tormented. You smiled because you kept me from reliving that hell. _

I clenched my fists as tears rolled down my face. "Damn her arrogance." I allowed myself to feel anger, to wrap myself in its strength. _How dare you take __**this**__ burden on yourself, Salem? Any other, any other I would have shared with you, but this is a horror that I would wish on __**no one**__. Not even my enemy._ "I am going, Wynne."

I turned on my heel to leave the room, blocked at the door by a shield of magic. "What do you think you are doing?" I asked.

"Keeping a promise to a friend." the ever-implacable healer replied. "You are exhausted, Leliana, physically, mentally, and emotionally. If you…if _any of us_ were to attempt something now, we would do the warden more harm than good. I am certain Morrigan is having this exact conversation with Alistair as we speak…and the implications of that are fair disastrous."

I did not smile, at my end with others steering my life in directions I did not wish to go. "Let me out, Wynne."

"No." she replied, walking to me.

I rested my hand on the hilt of my dagger. "I will warn you, once." I said. It was more mercy than I had given many others.

Wynne lifted a blue, glowing hand. Her face was full of…regret? "Sleep." she ordered, and the blue glow flew from her hand and whispered into my body.

My eyelids fluttered and I felt myself falling to the floor. Wynne caught me, supporting me, smoothing my hair back as my mother had done. "Forgive me, Leliana."

As magic swallowed me whole, I could remember but one thing. _Salem, prone on the floor of Howe's estate, watching me depart…that **ridiculous** smile on her face._


	15. Chapter 15

**Salem**

"You will find it easier to hold the knife _so._" I tilted my head at the correct angle, smiling as the young soldier's hand trembled. "It slides in effortlessly and fillets the skin without severing the nerves. It is much more effective if pain is your intent, not simply damage."

The young man with bashful brown eyes turned away from me, hand going to his throat as he dry heaved. Ser Cauthrien frowned, hate flooding into her eyes. She placed her hand on the boy's shoulder and thrust him from the dungeon.

"Recruiting those with weak stomachs?" I asked, watching the young man depart. "I am amazed that Howe's odious work was ever completed if all his men are of that same caliber."

Cauthrien reached back and struck me across the face with her gauntleted hand. Metal broke skin and I spat blood into the knight's face.

"Consider that a gift." I spoke around the pain, unwilling to let her believe she had hurt me. "At least now you have some noble blood."

"You high-born _bitch_." Cauthrien kept her tone even, as she had been trained to do. Another strike to my opposite cheek.

Pain ricocheted through my skull and I sagged against the chains that held me, wincing as the small spikes of metal in the manacles cut slivers into my wrists.

_I must upset her balance, destroy her calm. One weak meld in her armor and I can work to shatter it entirely. _

"The latter title I will not deny," I smiled as I spat blood once more, this time onto the ground. "But under Fereldan law, the imprisonment and torture of a noble is expressly forbidden."

"The title you were _born_ with has been stripped." Cauthrien's teeth glinted in the firelight. "At least mine was _earned_."

"So you say." _Maker's breath. Cauthrien may wield a sword without equal, but she is certainly unused to dueling with…finer weapons. _"I have heard how you _earned_ your title," a careful, constructed pause, "_polishing _Loghain's sword."

Cauthrien discarded her gauntlets, wrapped my hair around her fist and jerked my neck back, rendering my body motionless. Her free hand deftly unlaced my shirt, exposing my body to the frigid dungeon air.

I gasped as ice entered my skin, as Cauthrien carved a deft line into my body, upwards, along the outline of the ribcage. Every now and again her hand would twitch, angling the blade into my bone. I gritted my teeth, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

"You will find, Cousland," she growled into my ear, "that I am much more adroit with a blade than Howe's lackeys. That boy will be punished for his inability to wring confession from a traitor, but you will know agony, even if I must stain my hands with your filthy, tainted blood_._"

She jerked the knife from my body; breath came in halted gasps as blood sheeted down my skin. "What…confession?" I panted.

"Teyrn Howe was found chained in the dungeon, throat slit, gut punctured, tongue _half-severed_. Tell me, Cousland, what part did killing him play in the warden's scheme?"

The knight moved away from me, crossing to a roaring fire. She withdrew a glowing red iron spike. I kept my silence, knowing that whatever words crossed my lips would damn me, were they professions of guilt or innocence.

"Speak, warden," she encouraged, "and I will do you the courtesy of cauterizing your wound."

I smirked as my head began pounding. "Howe's death was at my hands, a personal vengeance, as it were. The wardens had nothing to do with it."

"Do not," her voice cracked against the stone like a whip, "_lie_ to me."

I looked into her eyes, saw fear flicker there as she witnessed her mortality in my gaze. She blinked rapidly and brought the glowing spike close to my wound, threatening.

"That is not the tale I have heard from Regent Loghain." she smiled, collected, austere, impenetrable.

"Loghain," I braced for the pain I knew would come, "is a liar."

Cauthrien eased the spike into the tear she had made in my skin, inching it further and further into my body. I screamed, unable to withstand the pain as the scent of charred flesh caught in my mouth. Tears came unbidden to my eyes and streaked down my cheeks.

At last, Loghain's most loyal knight pulled the spike away, holding it affectionately. "Perhaps that loosened your tongue?" she hypothesized. "Or will the Cousland's vaunted nobility shine through in their last, damned daughter? Please say you are unbroken, Salem. I should very much enjoy the pleasure of shattering you."

_Shattering me?_ I snickered, even as I sagged against the chains, slicing into my wrists as I did so. Blood trickled down my arms. _You think these attempts at torture will break me? You could walk this world for eternity and not know the sum of my tribulations. I have traveled through hell, dragon-fire, and death. I have been blinded…I have watched the one I love walk away from me…you know nothing of agony._

_ Leliana, please be safe. Please, do not worry for me. I will return to you, I swear it. I have come too far now to relinquish hope._

"I…am…unbroken." I managed to speak.

Cauthrien tensed and I felt her fury set the room aflame. "Guards!" she barked.

Five armored men poured into the room, awaiting orders. "This is Teyrn Howe's murderer." Cauthrien pointed an accusatory finger. "Unchain her and do not stay your hands until she is inches from the Maker's side."

As the guards made their preparations, Cauthrien edged close to me and whispered, "Be thankful, warden, that I am also a woman. I will spare you the ravages of these dogs."

_Bitch._ "You are…too kind."

The guards undid the binding on my wrists and ankles. The moment I regained my feet a frenzy of blows rained down on me, slamming me to the floor. I curled into myself, shielding my body as best I could. Pain exploded across my skin, radiating through my bones.

I forced the knowledge of pain away, forgetting the cracking of ribs and splitting of skin as I faded into myself. I focused on memories of shining blue eyes, of gentle, calloused fingers caressing my scars. The jeers and taunts of the guards were replaced with the sounds of her musical laughter.

_Leliana…_I smiled, even as blood poured from my newly broken nose.

Black danced before my vision and Cauthrien's yell sounded so very far away. "Stop!"

Immediately, my body stilled, no longer tossed about by men bent on twisted justice. I had no knowledge of pain, not yet. That would come soon enough.

"Find her a cell where she can reconsider her reticence." the knight ordered. "This prisoner is to be given no food and no water. Perhaps, when tomorrow arrives, she will see our position, and her own, in a new light."

Two guards slung my arms over their shoulders, hoisting me to my feet. I knew I could not walk. Blood dripped from my face and my chest felt heavy…even shallow inhales were excruciating. _Broken ribs, broken nose…_I abandoned the cataloging of my injuries. I had no healer to go to, no lover to bind my wounds.

_Maker, keep them safe._ I prayed again, for the thousandth time.

The guards began to move me when Cauthrien stopped them. She walked behind me and chuckled, enjoying this moment, glorying in a noble brought low.

"What is it, Ser Cauthrien?" one of the guards asked.

"Something is missing." the knight replied. Her fingers snapped. "Forgive me, warden, as I am remiss in my duties. Let me extend an offer of kindness."

With those words, Cauthrien opened two lines across my back, an "x" from one shoulder to its opposite hip. I wanted to scream, to cry out, but could not find the breath. Instead, tears vaulted over my eyes and mingled with the blood on my face.

"The fresh blood will draw the rats." Cauthrien leered. "Not all the creatures in Howe's dungeons need go hungry tonight."


	16. Chapter 16

**Leliana**

_The room is dark, the sort of darkness you can touch, the black that reaches out for you with an untender caress. I walk forward, uncertain of where I am going, knowing only that a dim candle gutters in the distance, the only speck of light I can see in this place…wherever it is. _

_ I move towards the candle and light slowly washes over the obsidian stones. __**Where in the Maker's name am I?**__I wonder._

_ "Wynne." I call out. __**Perhaps she is here. After all, she was the last to see me. **__"Wynne, are you there?" No answer. My heart beats faster and a spark of hope strikes through me. "S…Salem?"_

_ "No, no." a voice I had prayed never to hear again. "They are not here, my pretty thing. We are alone."_

_ Marjolaine emerges from the shadows, her pale skin gleaming in the dim light of the candle. Her burgundy lips glisten as she smiles, the smile which had always undone me…in the past. _

_ "W…," I back away, ill-at-ease, knowing she is dead. __**I saw Salem pierce your heart**__. "…why are you here?"_

_ "For you, of course." she laughs and it echoes through the room like a ballad. "Dear, dear Leliana. We have too long been separated. You should know I always return for what is mine."_

_ "You are dead." I tell her, finding my back against a wall. The dim glow illuminates the shadows of chains. __**No. NO! Not this, Marjolaine! Anything but this!**_

_ "Not here, sweet nightingale." Marjolaine's eyes sharpen to green steel. "Here, I can finish what I started, so very long ago."_

_**Please, let this be ended. Wake up, Leliana. You are dreaming, wake UP!**__ "Marjolaine, no…"_

_ My once lover, the woman I held as she died, reaches out for me, intending to bind my hands and exact her vengeance. I turn my head and swallow, anticipating the frigidity of her touch…it does not come. _

_ "By the old gods and their vices!" Marjolaine swears, a heated string of Common and Orlesian tongue. "I should have known. You vapid little cur." she glares at me, her hand still outstretched. My arm is within her reach, but something is holding her back, keeping her malicious fingers at bay. _

_ "I…" I shrink into the wall. "I do not understand."_

_ "It would appear that I cannot touch you," Marjolaine snarls. "Not even here, where I still have flesh and breath and bone."_

_ "She is no longer yours, Marjolaine." a rough voice, hewn from a land soaked in blood. It is a voice that holds nothing but comfort and care; an anchor in every storm._

_**Salem.**_

_ My warden walks to me and stands by my side, her presence a rock in this strange world where the dead have returned to life. _

_ "Warden." my bard-master sneers. "I seem to recall killing you."_

_ Salem smiles, a confident quirk of lips that belies a dragon's heart. "It did not take."_

_ Marjolaine shrugs her shoulders and turns her attention to me. "You know why I am here, do you not, my pretty thing?"_

_ I nod my head, understanding. Having failed to ruin me in the waking world, Marjolaine has come to my dreams to exact her vengeance. __**I want to awaken, Maker please, hear my plea, deliver me from this!**_

_"Do what you will." my voice trembles, but the only escape from this dream is to walk through whatever hell it may hold. _

_ Marjolaine's laugh echoes once more and I reach out to Salem, taking her hand in mine and squeezing it, bidding her a farewell. I extend my hand and the bard-master reaches out for it. I cringe, anticipating the cruelty of her touch, the curve of her fingers like a serpents embrace._

_ "No." Salem's hand takes mine, lowering it. She steps between me and Marjolaine, commanding, authoritative, a noble and a warden. "She does not belong to you, Marjolaine." Salem speaks._

_ "This is not your place, warden." Marjolaine warns her._

_ "My place is standing before whatever would cause Leliana harm." Salem places her other hand in Marjolaine's. "My place is protecting the ones I love."_

_ "Love?" Marjolaine scoffs. "Love, warden? The vacuous chit behind you has no mind for such things as __**love.**__ She could never understand it, comprehend it, __**use**__ it."_

_ "Love is not __**meant**__ to be used." Salem growls. I feel the fury pouring from her, aimed at Marjolaine. "Now sate your soul; drink your fill of my blood, and leave her in __**peace**__."_

_ I watch the only two women who had ever held my heart stand toe to toe, each awaiting the other's action. Marjolaine shoves Salem against the wall and chains her wrist. My warden does not resist, simply stands there as Marjolaine rips the shirt from her body, leaving her skin an open canvas._

_ Salem looks at me and smiles. It is a smile that says everything. __**I love you. I would give anything for you. I will never use you. I will walk into hell and surrender myself to your nightmares to keep you safe.**_

_ "Watch, my pretty thing." Marjolaine urges. "Examine your warden's weakness. She lets herself be taken. She lets herself be abused. You are stronger than she, Leliana. Why would you tie yourself to this?"_

_ "Think what you will." Salem does not flinch as Marjolaine carves into her skin, along the muscles of her neck, down between her breasts. "It is of no consequence. You are dead, and can no longer harm her. Not even here."_

_ "Salem." I rush to her, feeling Marjolaine try to claw me away, but her hands cannot touch me. I look into my lover's eyes, feeling tears in my own. "Salem, why?"_

_ "This," her voice is thick with pain as Marjolaine continues to slice into her body, "this is…the only way…I know…to love. Please, dear heart, tell me it is enough."_

_ "It is." I sob, closing my eyes, unable to watch her endure the torture that should have belonged to me._

* * *

I woke with a gasp, trembling with the intensity of the dream. Sweat and tears mingled on my face and I brushed it away, angry.

_If sacrifice is your manner of love, Salem,_ I thought, getting to my feet and strapping on my daggers, hiding more weapons of my trade in my clothing, _then I will love you in the way that is mine. _

I stole from my room, avoiding the guards of Eamon's estate. He had given Anora shelter here. That woman was the reason Salem had been taken, and, queen or not, she would answer to _me._

_I have too long acted the quiet, diminutive sister of the Chantry. I have concealed myself out of a fear I cannot now afford. No longer. I will make the shadows dance; bring down gods and queens and regents._ A sinister smile crept across my face as I eased Anora's door open. _It is time this bard pens a new tale,_ a thin garrote wire sang in my hands, _even if I must ink it with blood._


	17. Chapter 17

**Salem**

A sharp pain woke me, tugging at my ear. I tried to open my eyes, but only one obeyed. _Swollen shut_, I realized and groaned. I had drunk my fill of blindness, and even though I knew this was temporary, I was not pleased.

The pain in my ear continued and I lifted a hand, abandoning the movement when my nerves screamed and my muscles spasmed. _Not worth…the effort_, I relaxed against the stone, ignoring the burning sensation as the pain continued.

"Here," a kind voice intruded and the pain diminished. I heard a muffled squeak and a wet snapping of bone. "Maker's breath."

I felt strong hands on my body, lifting me and turning me over. I hissed as the cuts on my back were pressed to the stone floor. Heat flared from the gash on my arm and I cursed Howe's dead body. _It feels infected_, I thought, trying to focus on the arms that held me.

"Drink, quickly." the voice held a waterskin to my lips. As I drank, the words continued. "I killed the rat. It was eating your ear."

I laughed at the ridiculous misery of the situation and winced as my ribs ached. I looked into the man's face as he took the waterskin away. _Kind brown eyes_, realization struck.

"You…" his eye was black, lip split, part of Cauthrien's "punishment," no doubt. "…you should not be here."

"I have a few moments before I must return to my post." he whispered, lifting the waterskin once more. "You are the only person I have seen who could damage Ser Cauthrien's composure. I wanted to thank you. I cannot abide that bitch."

_So…young._ "You…should not have been harmed." I told him, hoping he would understand the regret behind my words. I had not meant for him to receive punishment. I had only wished to crawl under Cauthrien's skin and nestle there until she went mad. "Forgive me."

"It is of no importance." he stated, trying to cover his misgivings with bravery, to shield his pain from someone he thought worthy of admiration. "Were I not beaten for this, I would be beaten for another transgression. It is Teyrn Howe's way. I am from Amaranthine. My…my family could not pay our taxes, so Howe indentured me to his service in repayment."

_Damn that man. Even dead, he is still cruel to his people. How was this overlooked for so many years? _"Howe…is dead." I told the young man.

He nodded and eased me to the ground, preparing to leave. "I know." he sounded bitter and I could not see his face. "It matters very little. Cauthrien has been grooming herself for his position…now she is taking full advantage of the situation. If she can wring a confession from you, she is certain that Loghain will give her Amaranthine. I'm expected back at my post. I wish I could be more of a help, warden."

"Teyrna." I corrected him. _Damn Howe. Damn Loghain. Damn all the __**fucking**__ nobles. I will see that justice is done. I will see this country made whole, beginning now. _"Teyrna…" the title felt uncomfortable on my lips, "…Cousland. You are hereby freed of your servitude. Go home."

He looked at me, eyes wide with co-mingled terror and hope. "Can…can you do that?"

"I am the sole noble in this estate; there are none who can overrule me." I coughed and pain spiked through my broken ribs. "Finish your duties and leave here. Go," my vision blurred and the room spun, even though I had not moved, "to the estate…of Arl Eamon. He will…aid your escape. Here," I extended my hand and the hopeful boy took it, "take this ring. It is the signet of House Cousland. Eamon…will draw up papers…releasing you."

He slid the ring from my finger and grasped it as though it were a rope, and he suspended over a precipice. "Thank…_thank you_, milady." he breathed, sliding the ring onto his own finger. "Maker bless you and keep you safe."

"Do me…one favor." I begged, finding it more difficult to breathe. "At…Eamon's estate…there is a woman. Beautiful, Orlesian, red hair. Tell her…tell her that I am all right. Please."

"Of course." he nodded, eager. "I will."

He fled the dungeon and I laid my head back, soaking in the temperature of the stone floor. I felt as though someone had lit a fire beneath my skin. Every movement brought agony, my lungs rustled when I breathed. I had felt like this before…once.

_The night I lost my life. The night I drowned in my own blood. Maker, please, see that boy safely out of this hell. Let at least one innocent return home unscarred. _

Harsh, metallic footfalls rang against my ears and the door of my cell swung open once more. "Awake at last?" Cauthrien's grating voice. "How are you feeling, warden?"

"Fit." I answered. "Bring me an Archdemon and I will slay it, without exertion."

"Hmmmm." Cauthrien strode around my prone body, hand on her chin, tapping her lips with a single finger. "I had hoped that the time spent in agony and the fever in your blood would loosen your tongue. You are far too stubborn, Cousland."

"What do you want of me?" I asked. "What is this 'confession'?" I coughed again, forcing myself onto my side so that I could breathe. The broken bones in my chest grated against each other and I pinched my eyes closed, swallowing down a scream.

"Tell me, Cousland, how are you controlling the darkspawn?"

"_What?_" I asked, still lucid enough to wonder at the ludicrousness of her question.

"Do not," Cauthrien warned me with a light kick to my already broken ribs; the scab on my torso split, "play coy with me, warden! This information is _vital_ to the safety of Ferelden. If you care for your country at all, I suggest you surrender it!"

"You've gone mad." I managed, unable to catch my breath.

"Tell me!" Cauthrien roared, "Or I swear to you, I will make your stay here vastly more unpleasant."

"There is…a Blight." I whispered. "An Archdemon. The wardens are not controlling the darkspawn, you little…fool."

"Lies!" Cauthrien shrieked, kneeling and glaring at me. A knife trembled in her hand. "Tell me the truth, warden."

"That _is _the truth." I stressed.

Cauthrien brought the knife down, driving the blade between the bones of my hand. I screamed and my back arched off of the ground as I thrashed, causing my ribs to grind together once more. This time, however, Cauthrien did not laugh at my pain.

_She is…breaking me…for her own advancement. She desires Howe's title, his lands, his nobility, as little as that was worth. But…these accusations…are from a madman's mouth. _

Cauthrien rose and began pacing. "The trouble started when the wardens were allowed to enter Ferelden. How could you, a noble, join with those who would undo this country and bring us back under the _iron grip of Orlais!?_"

"Loghain," _how much will I regret this? _"is deceiving you, Cauthrien. He's gone mad."

Her scream of rage echoed off the stone as the armored tip of her boot collided with my temple…


	18. Chapter 18

**Leliana**

I eased open the door to Anora's room, quickly taking in the surroundings. The bed remained untouched; the queen sat before the fire, staring into the flames, her long golden hair flowing down her back.

_This will be all too easy, _I smirked. My bare feet did not make a sound on the stone floors. I crept up behind the queen, spindling the garrote between my fingers. I looped it around her neck, knowing the metal was too thin to be noticed.

"Good evening, your majesty." I pulled the wire tight, enjoying Anora's gasp of surprise. _It appears I have not lost my touch, after all. _

Anora's fingers reached for the metal around her throat. "Who are you?" her voice shook, but only a little.

"I am the Nightingale." I answered. "The warden you let be taken happens to be a friend to me." _More, so much more, but to reveal that is to give her the advantage._ "And, as I hear the tale woven, she was once a friend to you."

"What do you want?" Anora's shoulders tightened.

"I want to know _why_ you did not speak in her defense, Anora." I replied, tightening the garrote, nearly enough to break skin.

"I…I was frightened." the queen confessed.

"That is _no excuse_." I hissed, though my own thoughts condemned me. _I, too, trembled with fear, so much that my daggers were rendered useless and any support I could have provided was erased._

"My own father _imprisoned_ me." Anora claimed. "If I spoke in defense of the warden, he would take my head, and he has enough support to do so, unchallenged."

"How am I to know that you were, in fact, imprisoned?" I asked, loosening the garrote and scissoring it across her neck. "Am I to simply take you at your word?"

"Salem was my…my friend." Anora's voice cracked. "I did not know that she was the warden my father sought for so doggedly. Had I felt that she would be aided by my intervention, believe me, Mistress Nightingale, I would have done so. Alas, my own father locked me in Howe's estate with no reason other than citing my 'safety' as his intent."

"You had no knowledge of the trap?" I pressed the question, believing her. I had been lied to many a time; I knew the signs, the subtle inflections, the false bravado. Anora displayed none of it. She was being as honest as she was able.

"None." she answered. I removed the garrote and heard a sigh of relief. "I have been sitting before this fire, wracking my mind. There is nothing I can do for her, now. Even though…even though she sacrificed herself for my safety."

I sat down next to her; saw the firelight glinting off of the tears in her eyes. "Make amends in a different manner." I whispered, taking full advantage of the situation. "Take Salem's side in the Landsmeet. You are queen of Ferelden. Your word still carries weight. Make that your repayment."

She turned her gaze to mine. "I will consider it, Mistress Nightingale." she answered, a diplomat born.

_You will __**consider**__ it?_ My temper flared. "You will do more than consider it, Queen Anora. You _will_ back the wardens in the Landsmeet."

Anora stood and I followed the motion, unwilling to be dictated to. "I am the _queen_!" she hissed. "Who in _hell_ do you presume to be?"

"I am the woman who held your life in my hands not moments ago." I smiled, keeping her eyes on mine as I drew a dagger and pressed it against her stomach. "You _will_ support Salem, you _will_ denounce your father, or you _will_ suffer."

Anora paled as she looked down and saw the blade against her skin. "This is treason." she whispered.

"I am not of Ferelden." I smiled. "I do not answer to her laws or bow to her queens. Give me your word, Anora."

Her face contorted as though she had a bitter taste in her mouth. "You have it."

"Do _not _betray that oath." I cautioned her as I left the room. "I am not a woman crossed without repercussions."

"You do not know what you are playing at." Anora called back, her claws extended now that my blade was no longer a threat.

I looked back at her, over my shoulder. "I have toppled kings with a rhyming couplet, your majesty. I do not _play_, as you say, at anything. Dream sweetly, Anora."

I closed the door behind me and began to walk back to my room. Alistair stood there, hammering on the door like a madman. I cleared my throat and he turned to look at me. His eyes were alight. "Leliana, you have to come quickly."

My heart caught in my throat. _Has something transpired__? Was Eamon able to do anything_? "Alistair, is everything all right?"

"We have news." he wrapped his hand around my arm and nearly dragged me down the stairs into Eamon's library.

The arl sat behind his desk, scratching on parchment. A young man stood anxiously before him, shifting his weight, glancing around, as though nervous.

"What has happened?" I asked, worried.

The young man turned and looked at me. His eye had been blackened; his lip was cut. "Is this her?" he asked Alistair. The Grey Warden nodded.

The young man walked to me, extending his hand. "My name is Rowan, Rowan Varel, from Amaranthine." he grasped my hand in greeting. "I was an indentured servant of Teyrn Howe."

My heart began to race. _What is a member of Howe's house doing here…so late at night…and beaten?_ "And?" I could scarcely form the word.

"I…I have news. Of the ward…of Teryna Cousland." he amended, as though one title were dearer to him than the other.

Alistair looked at me, saw that my breath was held, my mouth unable to speak. "Go on." he bade Rowan.

"She told me to come here," he rambled, foregoing breath in the interest of words, "to find Arl Eamon and have him draw up the proper documents for my release. She gave me this." He pressed Salem's signet ring into my hand. I clutched it, unconsciously holding it close to my heart.

_Is she all right? Is she well? Please, Maker, tell me __**something!**_ "That sounds quite like her." I smiled, straining not to throttle him by the shoulders and demand information.

"She gave me a message for you." his tone darkened.

I lifted my eyes, searching his gaze. "Yes?"

"She said to inform you that she is all right."

_I do not believe you_, I tried to smile, for the boy's sake, to let him know that he had done well and fulfilled his mission. _I do not believe you because I have seen Salem stabbed, poisoned, and blinded, proclaiming to me and all the world that she is all right._

"T…thank you." I smiled, handing him back the ring that would secure his freedom. _Trust Salem to be noble, even in the most extreme of circumstances. _

"See that, Leliana?" Alistair seemed like a giddy child at Yule. "Salem sent word. She is all right."

I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose, Salem's most familiar gesture. "I do not believe him." I whispered.

_I wonder how many bones are broken, how much blood she has lost…what has been stolen from her. _

Arl Eamon pressed a folded parchment into Rowan's hands. The young man thanked him profusely and made to depart. I walked to him and grasped his arm, looking into him with icy eyes.

"How is she, in truth?" I asked, needing to know, needing to have my fears realized.

His brown eyes filled with worry, fear of disappointing Salem, the woman who had given him what he most desired.

"You can tell me." I assuaged him. "She will not fault you for it."

"Not well." he lowered his gaze. "Ser Cauthrien had her viciously beaten…" his eyes trailed off into nightmares. "I fear the knight will kill her, given enough encouragement."

_Maker's blood. _"Thank you." I choked out, before my fear could consume me. "Now go. Be well."

Rowan Varel left the estate, seeking his new life…a life given to him by my warden. My warden whose body was being broken in Howe's dungeons.

I turned on my heel and dashed to my room, Alistair following close behind. "Leliana…" he asked, watching me lace my boots and sling my quiver over my shoulder, "…what are you doing?"

"I am sick with waiting." I grasped my bow, setting the string. "I will not idly stand by while Salem is methodically slaughtered. Now," I placed my hand on his chest, "you may accompany me if you wish. If not, I _will_ subdue you, gag you, and leave you locked in that closet to ensure your silence."

His eyes widened. "Allow me to procure my sword." he said, backing away.

I waited for him at the door of my room, wringing my hands. _Keep strong__, my love_, I whispered_. I am coming for you._


	19. Chapter 19

**Salem**

"She has remained remarkably stubborn, my lord." Cauthrien's acidic, obsequious tones grated against my ears. "While I am loathe to disturb your rest, I thought it better that you speak to her yourself. Perhaps she will show less reticence when you display blinding truth before her eyes."

"Excellent work, Ser Cauthrien." Loghain smiled, walking around me in a contemplative circle. "I see that my most loyal has not spared the lash. Tell me, Salem, why do you still deny what you know to be the truth?"

My blurry vision adjusted to the torchlight. I glanced up, seeing my arms stretched out above me, wrists locked in chains. My feet were suspended, a precious inch above the floor. I felt as though my own weight were crushing my chest. Every inhale was a war.

"Have you convinced yourself of your own lies, Loghain?" I asked in return.

The self-appointed regent stood before me, hate swirling in his fathomless black eyes. "No more than a deluded, _stupid_ girl would let herself be grievously wounded in order to pretend honesty. Tell me, Warden Cousland, who made the incisions on your body? Maric's bastard? That devious mischief-monger Duncan? Or you, yourself?"

I held my head high. _Father, I hope you can see me from the Maker's side. I hope I am making you proud. Please, lend me your strength in the face of this barbaric insanity. I am not certain…how much more…I can endure._

"These scars…" a difficult breath, "were incurred…at the hands of darkspawn…at the Tower of Ishal…_after_…I lit the beacon."

"_**Blasphemy!**_" Loghain shouted. Pain ruptured through my body as leather snaked out, catching the tender flesh of my back. Blood trickled, warm, down my skin.

I bit my lip until it bled, unwilling to scream before Loghain. This man had deluded himself, chasing after a power that no one wished him to possess. When my father would not take the crown, the people chose Maric Theirin, anything…any bloodline but a Mac Tir's on the throne. This…this was the reason. His rule would be no better for Ferelden than that of the Empress of Orlais.

"When…blasphemy…becomes truth," I panted, "what then?"

Loghain stripped his gauntlet and struck me across the face with it. The world went dark and blood filled my mouth.

"Coward." I spat the blood onto his armor, much as I had done with Cauthrien. "Can you not even…strike me…with your own hand?"

"As if I would mutilate my flesh with your tainted blood." Loghain sneered. "Now _tell_ me the _**truth!**_ Why have the wardens awakened the darkspawn? Why have you gathered an alliance of our enemies?"

"Enemies?" I lifted an eyebrow…even that small movement brought pain.

"The Dalish, the mages, the dwarves…you have even converted one of Ferelden's own to your treachery. Do you think I do not know, warden, do you think I do not _see?_"

"There is nothing…to see…but what has been…before your eyes." I paused to breathe. "A _fucking __**Blight**_."

"Lies!" Loghain yelled, signaling with his hand.

The whip cracked again…thrice more. I clenched the chains with my hands, biting back screams, holding my breath, praying for an unconsciousness that did not come. My body swayed from the chains like a bleeding pendulum.

_Soon,_ I whispered words of hope to myself, _soon this will be ended. I will be back in the arms of the one I love. This Blight will be finished. Blood will be shed, tears will be cried, but healing will begin. These moments will be relegated to the realm of the forgotten. _I traced my bard's face in the enclosure of my mind, where none could venture, a fortress that none could break into, not with slander, not with threats, not with torture. _I know you will come for me, Leliana. I only regret…that you must return…to this place which brings you nightmares. Please…forgive me…my inability to escape._

"Warden!" Loghain's voice jarred me back to my inescapable reality. "Speak the truth, before me and all of Ferelden, recant this tale of a Blight! Lay bare the warden's falsehoods! Say 'this Blight is a lie,' and earn your freedom! Five words, Cousland. Five, excruciatingly simple words, and I will deliver you to Arl Eamon and your companions, healed."

I watched him with my one working eye. _It would be so easy._ I thought. _Simple, as he said. Just say them, Salem. Say them, and end this. Go back to Leliana, wrap yourself in her embrace, press on with the mission. Ferelden will understand the warden's truth soon enough. You need not defend what will, without fail, transpire._

I looked at Loghain, hand at the ready, almost eager to signal whoever held the whip. _But that is Not. Who. I. Am. I am a Grey Warden, a noble of Ferelden, and I will not capitulate before a madman's rantings. I will __**not**__ damn the country that I love in order to end my personal torment. _

"No."

"You see what she is doing, do you not?" Loghain spread his hands wide, addressing Cauthrien and the guards assembled. "She is trying to _deceive _you. Only a _fool_ would not have accepted that offer. I would have given you clemency; I would have let you _go free_! Instead you choose to hang here, enduring torture! _This_," he pointed to my broken, blood-slick body, "_this_ is the level of the warden's depravity! She is so convinced of their agenda that she will endure what no _sane person __**could**_!"

"Or," my voice was thick, wet, rasping, "is it that I...am defending…the truth?" I looked up at Cauthrien, daring her to believe me. She had thought a confrontation with Loghain would wring his truth from my mouth. It would not be so.

Loghain marched to the fire burning in the room, drawing from it a glowing poker, much like the one Cauthrien had used on me. I tightened my grip on the chains, awaiting whatever cruelty would come next.

"Tell me that you see the truth, warden." Loghain growled, holding the poker dangerously close to my eyes. "Tell me that you see, or have your sight forever stricken from you."

I closed my eyes and laughed, ignoring the heat against my face, the intent behind Loghain's words. "Do…as you will." I smiled. "It will not be…the first time."

_If I must sacrifice my sight again, so be it. I know I will still be able to fight, will find the strength to forge ahead. This will not break me, Loghain. Nothing will._

I felt the searing heat against my eyelid; waited for the intense pain sure to come when Loghain pushed the poker through it.

"Your lordship!" the clatter of armored feet, alarm in a stranger's voice. "Your lordship, we must depart! The estate has been set aflame!"

I smirked as the poker clattered to the ground. "Cauthrien!" Loghain bellowed. "Rally the men! We are under attack!"

"Yes, your lordship." the knight answered, but with a new tone in her voice…one of…hesitancy, doubt.

They left and I sagged against the chains, screaming at last as the muscles in my shoulders were strained beyond their limits. Tears slid down my face, but they were not shed for pain. _They're here_, my thoughts sang, _at last, they've come back for me._


	20. Chapter 20

**Leliana**

We scaled the rooftops of Denerim, Alistair following clumsily behind me, stumbling and sweating, cursing a streak under his breath. I turned back to him, wiping sweat-dampened hair out of my eyes.

"Keep silent." I hissed. "We are attempting to evade detection, not encourage it."

He staggered over to me, breathing heavily. "It was _your_ idea to crawl across rooftops like some sort of deranged spider!" he shouted in a whisper.

"Loghain has patrols criss-crossing the streets." I argued. "Now strengthen your resolve and follow my lead."

"I am a templar, not an acrobat." he grumbled, following after as I leapt from one rooftop to another.

_Here_, I smiled, looking down at the grounds of the former Teyrn Howe's estate. _This is my vantage point. _

I surveyed the area, three two man patrols, two guards stationed at every door. The side entrance that Erlina had led us to still seemed to be the best way in. It was hidden by a corner of the estate, out of the eyes of the moving patrols.

_Two guards_. I smiled and pulled two arrows from my quiver, nocking them against the bowstring. I pulled back, setting the arrows on opposite sides of my fist, aiming down into the courtyard. Alistair came up behind me.

"Ca…can you make that shot?" he wondered.

"Do you want to rush in and slaughter them, screaming and yelling all the while?" I countered, taking aim.

"I could serve as a distraction." Alistair replied. "Make the guards leave their posts."

"Sometimes, Alistair," a tiny grin quirked my face, "the sweetest song is silence. Have you a flint?"

"Of course." he answered. "Why?"

My smile widened. _These poor, inept fools. They will not know from whence the storm has come, just that they are inexorably caught in it._

"Howe," I released the bow, satisfied as I watched both arrows take their targets in the throat, "made a single, grave mistake."

I turned back to Alistair, enjoying the shocked, admiring expression. "What would that be?" the future king asked, pulling flint and stone from his belt pouch.

My grin became nothing less than bloodthirsty. "He attached his stables directly to the house."

"And?" Alistair had yet to catch my thoughts. He was right. He was but a warrior, untrained in subterfuge, untutored in sneak attacks.

I tore a strip of material from my shirt and soaked it in the oil I had brought in hopes that this sort of advantage would present itself. I tied the oil-soaked cloth to the shaft of an arrow and eyed the distance, contented as I saw an open window.

"Horses need straw." I answered, drawing back the bow yet again. "Straw catches fire."

"_Right_." Alistair smiled as he understood my intent. He struck the flint and the spark caught the oil, setting the arrow aflame. I aimed into the window and fired, laughing as smoke began to pour from the building and the screaming of the horses met my ears.

"Stay outside." I turned to Alistair. "Take out the guards as you can. Do not, Alistair, _do not_ follow me, or I swear I will pull out your intestines and strangle you with them."

His eyes widened and he nodded in silent assent. Strangely enough, he would only argue with Salem. The templar-turned-warden was still uncertain of the rest of us. I prayed he knew that he could trust me.

"Bring her back." were his only words as he drew his blade.

I left my bow on the rooftop, knowing it would be useless in the coming battle. "I swear it."

I crawled down from the house and raced to the door, entering the estate and tracing my path to the dungeons, dodging frightened servants and guards racing for the stables. Thunder rumbled outside and I cursed.

_If that thunder brings rain with it, my time is cut further short. As soon as the danger from the fire is ended, then the guards will return to their posts and the distraction will be rendered useless. Damn it._

I found the staircase down into the dungeons. I caught my breath as the stench of blood and fear overwhelmed me. I steadied myself against the wall, clenching the hilts of my already drawn daggers. _Breathe,_ I ordered myself, _focus. I cannot afford to be drawn back into my nightmares. Not while Salem is in danger, not when my time is so limited. Maker, give me strength, clear my mind. Give me what I need in order to rescue her._

I opened my eyes and steadied my breath, descending further into hell. The halls were clear, all guards having been dispatched to aid in the stamping out of the fire and guard against an attack that may have come.

I ducked into a shadowed doorway as footsteps passed by me. Torchlight glinted off an all too familiar silver armor.

_Loghain_. I slanted my eyes. _What is he doing here…oh dear Maker…Salem may not even be alive to rescue. If he is here...and alive…she is…no, Leliana. Do not harbor such thoughts. Salem is the strongest person I know. If any could survive this hell, without aid…it would be __**her**__._

I slipped from the doorway and ran into a giant, clad in burgundy sheened armor. I struck first, using the imbalance from our initial impact to take her to the ground. I had a knife to her throat, staring into her eyes. _You_, I recognized her face_, you are the one who made Salem choose between casting us all down here or sacrificing her own life. _

"Go." she whispered, unconcerned with the blade at her throat. "The warden is not far. Find her before she's dead."

Her words caught me off balance, but I kept my dagger tight against her neck. _This could be a ploy, a tactic to convince me to drop my guard. I will not do it. _

"Why?" I stressed, putting pressure on the blade. "After what you did, why would you help her?"

Confusion crossed the knight's face. "In truth, I do not know. I only know that I do not wish her to die. Now get off of me, and _go._"

_Not without assurance that you will not follow. _I speared my other dagger into her gut, watching her face contort in pain. _I will not apologize for this. After all you have made her endure, this is mercy. _

I left Cauthrien to bleed on the floor, dashing down the hallway. _Please, Salem, please. Be alive. Please. _I turned more corners and evaded more guards. I slowed my steps as I approached a dimly lit room. Two guards stood at the door.

I rushed them, slicing one's throat, ducking under the sword of the other. I kicked his legs out from under him and plunged my dagger downwards, into his side, through the weak points in his armor. He screamed and I placed my hand over his mouth, watching the light leave his eyes. Satisfied, I withdrew both hand and knife.

I entered the room and gasped. My lover hung, suspended from chains. Her clothes were torn to shreds, stained crimson. I walked closer, examining the damage as best I could. I pressed my fingers to her neck, sighing in relief as I felt a weak pulse beneath her skin. Forcing myself to keep silent, I turned my attention to the chains that held her, sheathing my blades and withdrawing my lockpicks.

Salem lifted her head at the slight sound of metal against metal. One blue eye opened, the white of it marred with blood. Her split lip curved upwards in a half smile. "Hello, beautiful."


	21. Chapter 21

**Salem**

Footsteps…coming closer. _Wake up, Salem._ I whispered to myself, straining to cling to consciousness. I could still hear the slow drip of blood onto the floor. _Please_, I begged whatever god would hear, _please let this be a friendly hand, a kinder touch. I…I can take no more, no more skin split, no more blood lost, no more blows against my body. _

A wave of gentle energy coursed across me and my battered lips curved into a smile. My chains moved slightly under what I knew were the most skilled of hands. I dragged my head up and gazed into the eyes I knew would greet me. _My savior. My future's promise. _I opened my one functional eye. "Hello, beautiful."

Leliana's skin was pale, her hands trembled as she picked the locks. _Damn me yet again_, my fragmented conscious spoke. _I never meant to draw you back down here. I never meant for you to see me…in this state. _

"Are…you…" I coughed, "…all right?"

Her eyes flashed to mine, anger quickly overwhelmed by grief. "Hush, love." she whispered, and the locks holding my wrists gave way.

I collapsed to the floor, supported by Leliana as my legs gave out from under me. She brought me, gently, to my knees, her hand brushing back my blood-matted hair. "Salem, Salem, look at me." she urged.

_I want to rest. Maker save me, I want to rest. So…very…tired._ With great effort, I opened my eye, unable to focus on her face.

"Can you walk?" her voice trembled. I did not answer, trying to get enough breath to speak. "Salem, can you walk?"

"Try." I answered. "I'll…try."

"Good." she twisted, wrapping my arm about her shoulders. Her arm braced against my back and I cried out as the torn flesh protested.

"I know it is painful, love, I know." she comforted me. "Endure it, please. Just long enough. I'm going to stand now." she warned me. "Follow my movement, I will take most of your weight."

_This is not fair. How…how can I, who have failed you so many times, let you carry me out of the hell I brought you into? How do you forgive me, Leliana? Where do you find your strength?_

I shored my legs, begging them to hold me, as Leliana stood. My ribs grated together once more and I could not restrain another scream. Leliana held me until I could manage the incessant waves of agony.

_Focus on her touch_, I willed myself. _Force the pain to the back of your mind and __**move**__._

I clung to her, staggering as my body protested the further harsh treatment. Even shallow inhales were difficult. I felt as though I were drowning. We staggered down the empty hallways, Leliana flicking her eyes back and forth, watching for enemies. Sweat broke out on my forehead, trickling down my face and into my cuts, stinging.

"A little further, Salem," Leliana urged, increasing her speed. "There is a storm coming. Once the rain extinguishes the fire our time is finished."

Black swam at the edges of my already blurred vision. _Too much…blood…lost…Maker, please…if we are re-captured…__**no.**_

I shook my head, attempting to clear it, using the fierce ache between my temples as an escape from the pain that threatened to drag me into unconsciousness. _I will __**not**__ let her share my fate. I will __**not**__ let her hands be chained. No harm will come to her, I have sworn it, and I __**refuse**__ to break my word._

"I…" _I __**must**__ endure, _"…can move…faster."

"Are you certain?" she asked, concern etched in every word.

_No._ "Yes."

Leliana increased the length of her strides and I limped beside her, savoring the warmth of her body, ignoring my frayed nerves and the lacerations on my skin, the blood flowing down my legs from the lashes across my back.

At last, we approached the stairway out of the dungeon, thus far unassailed. Our luck was holding. _But when_, even my thoughts were breathless, _when will it run out? _

"Keep strong, my love." her voice brought me out of the murk of my thoughts. "We are almost through this trial."

We ascended the stairs at an excruciating, slow pace. I could feel Leliana's urgency, her fear, blanketed by frustration and…guilt?

_She is…blaming herself…_I realized, nearly brought to tears by the knowledge. _She is taking responsibility for my imprisonment, my torture. Andraste's ass, Leliana. No. No!_

"Not…your…fault." I rasped as we reached the top of the stairs.

"Don't talk." her tone seemed harsh, but I saw her eyes, blinking rapidly, pushing back tears. "Conserve your strength."

_I have none left_, I smirked, feeling my lip split and bleed once more. _All that remains is you, your beauty, your strength. I need you, Leliana. More than anything else, in this moment, and in all moments, I need you._

We rounded a corner and my world went white as a guard collided with us. I collapsed to the ground, feeling bone jar, flesh pierced…breath lost. I lay on the floor, gasping, forcing my eyes to remain open.

_No_, I screamed between clenched teeth. _No. We have come too far._

I coughed and blood filled my mouth, the right side of my chest felt as though it were being crushed under a stone. I rolled to my left and spat blood onto the ground, before I choked on it. From a great distance, I heard a scream, metal against stone, a life ended.

Warm, merciful hands turned me over onto my back, frantically touching my face. "Salem," Leliana's fingers trembled as she grazed my cheek, "Salem, love, breathe. Breathe, darling, please, please."

_Can't…_I struggled to force air into my lungs. My eye closed, like a curtain on a play's final act. _Forgive me._

"_No!_" Leliana shrieked, pulling me up into her arms. "_Do not dare close your eyes on me, do not __**dare**__!_"

_Let me be!_ my mind begged, but my heart pried open my eye, gazing into her frantic, mirroring blue. "Here…with you."

"A little further." she hoisted me up, dragging me to my feet.

_For you…anything._

I commanded myself to go forward, my body craving air even as blood pooled in my lung and the crushing weight grew to be more than I could bear. We exited the house, Leliana leading me past the flame-drowned estate, out into the blissful, free streets of Denerim.

"_Alistair!_" she screamed as thunder roared and the skies opened.

Rain poured down, loosening the blood that had dried on my skin, washing it away. My warden-brother came running up to us, shock and horror stamped on his face. He quickly came to my other side, taking my weight onto his shoulders.

Smoke from the fire caught in my throat and I coughed. Blood spilled over my lips. I looked at Leliana; the stark white of her skin, the unmitigated determination in her eyes. I squeezed her shoulder with what strength I had. My bard turned to me, afraid.

I forced my lips to curve upward. "Love…you."


	22. Chapter 22

**Leliana**

"_WYNNE!_" Alistair bellowed as we burst through the servant's entrance of Eamon's estate. "_WYNNE, MORRIGAN, WE NEED YOU!_"

"They're on the upper floor," I glanced around, trying to appease the frightened kitchen staff with a smile. "They cannot hear you."

"Take her." he unceremoniously shoved Salem's sagging body into my arms, leaving me to support her weight. He dashed up the stairs, shouting all the while.

I glanced at the kitchen staff, then at Salem. Her eyelids were fluttering, her lips parted, dripping blood onto the floor. "Clear a table." I ordered with false calm.

Eamon's servants obeyed, displaying an alacrity rarely seen. Apologizing with a whisper, I lifted Salem in my arms and placed her body on the table, my own muscles trembling with fatigue and exhaustion.

"I need boiled water and bitter wine." I instructed the staff. The cook placed an oil lamp on the table and backed away, horrified.

I understood how he felt as I at last took time to examine the extent of Salem's injuries. I could find no part of her skin that had remained un-bruised. I took my knife and cut open her shirt, nearly dropping the blade as I saw what lay beneath the tattered material.

Salem's ribs were bruised almost black, her chest rising and falling in jerking gasps. A tear had been made in her skin, from her left side, following the line of her rib cage, up to her breastbone. I laid my fingers against it, a feather-light touch. _It looks as though it was cauterized…I remember this…a healing measure and torture entwined. Maker's __**fucking **__breath_.

I lifted my eyes to her face, the beautiful features marred with swelling and bruises. A deep, pointed gash in her temple still oozed blood; her cheeks had been cut by sharp metal, her nose broken and lips split. The slash in her arm from Howe's sword was the worst visible wound. The edges were violet, the skin swollen and hot to the touch.

_Where is Wynne?_ my thoughts raced faster than I could track them. _I cannot even begin to repair this level of damage. Where is she?_

I felt a light touch on my elbow and flinched, turning to face the cook. He set a folded sheet and a glass bottle near me on the table. "The wine you requested." he spoke, keeping his eyes away from Salem's body. "The sheet is for bandages."

"Thank you." my voice felt thick in my throat.

"The water is over the fire now. Is there anything else you may need?"

"Not…not at the moment. Thank you…again."

He nodded and backed away, clearing the rest of the curious kitchen staff from the room. I returned my attention to Salem. "Stay with me." I whispered, uncertain if she could hear my words, my desperation.

I took her hand in mine and she hissed, turning her head away. I looked down, horrified as I saw the hole in Salem's flesh where her hand had been impaled by a blade. _Who could do this?_ I wondered, my lips beginning to tremble. _Who could damage a warrior's hand, deprive them of their skill, their strength, their coordination?_

The sound of hurried footsteps greeted my ears and I looked up, watching Wynne enter the room, rubbing grit from her eyes and running her hands through her loose white hair. Her eyes went from my face to Salem's body. Immediately she went to the warden, dropping her satchel, holding her hands out, the blue-glow of healing magic hovering over Salem's prone form.

Alistair came to stand beside me, feeling as helpless as I. After what seemed an eternity, Wynne looked up.

"How is she?" Alistair asked the question I could not voice.

Wynne looked up, brow creased with concern. "Bad." one word, in a blank tone.

"Bad?" Alistair's composure fractured. "_Bad?_ Then do _something! _Wave your hands, chant a spell, _**anything**_!"

"Keep calm, warden." Wynne cautioned, her voice the dark blue storm on the horizon. "Leliana, I need your assistance."

I walked forward as Morrigan entered the room. Wynne signaled her with a shake of her head and the witch joined me. "Turn her onto her side." the healer ordered. "The wounds on her back are fresh and still bleeding."

Morrigan placed her hands under Salem's shoulders, her eyes carefully detached from her hands, from the warden's body. _Salem is dear to all of us_, I thought as I eased my hands under Salem's mid-section and thigh. _Watching this is painful for us all._

Morrigan locked eyes with me and nodded. We rolled Salem over and a muffled groan issued from the warden's mouth, followed by a cough…followed by a pool of blood from between her lips.

Wynne spread her hands over Salem's back, magic flowing from them, entering the four lashes from Loghain's whips and the two, cruel, criss-crossed slashes across her skin, from shoulder to hip. Salem's body curled, and a wet, blood-curdling scream crossed her lips.

"Lay her back down." Wynne directed, and Morrigan and I complied. "The wounds are still open, but the bleeding has been stopped."

"That's it?" Alistair asked as Wynne measured Salem's pulse.

"Her heart is beating much too fast." Wynne muttered, ignoring the warden, seeming as though she spoke to herself. "Many of the wounds are infected. Much too risky…damn it, Salem." Wynne cursed, shocking us all. "Was it not enough for the Maker to taint your blood; must he also have made you nigh un-healable?"

_I cannot endure this._ "Wynne, what is it?" _Salem is dying; she is dying in front of me and all assembled, with all our varied skills and abilities, seem __**helpless**__._

"She has lost too much blood." Wynne answered, lifting her satchel to the table. "I cannot risk using magic until she is more stable. In her current condition, the pain she experiences from healing spells will overload her heart and kill her. Alistair, come here."

"What," the warden questioned Wynne even as he walked to her, "what can I do?"

"Salem needs blood, badly. One of her ribs has been broken and it has punctured her lung. I will have to cut her open and remove the bone, and pray…" the senior enchanter paused, gathering her composure, "…pray that she can endure the magic needed to repair the injury."

We all fell silent, taking onto our shoulders the gravity of her words. _Please, Maker,_ I prayed, lacing my fingers through Salem's, hoping I did not cause her pain, _she has survived all of this. Her family's massacre, the Joining, the arrows at Ishal, Marjolaine's poisoning, her blindness…this torture. Through all these trials, she has endured. Do not turn your face from her now. Give her strength, please, take anything from me that you will, but Let. Her. Live._

Wynne removed a hollow reed from her satchel. It had been sharpened at both ends. She took Alistair's arm and rolled up the sleeve of his drenched shirt.

"What…what are you doing?" the warden asked, blood draining from his face.

"You are the only other warden present." Wynne replied. "If any other were to share blood with Salem, her body would reject it and she would become very, very ill."

"Share…blood?" Alistair questioned. "Is that even possible?"

"Among more recent schools of healing." Wynne gave a reassuring smile that did nothing to ease the tension in the room. "I may be old, Alistair, but I am not one to turn away from something that can preserve life. Morrigan, here."

The witch responded without argument, moving to the other side of the table. Wynne lifted Salem's arm and Morrigan supported it. The healer then inserted the sharpened end of the reed into Salem's vein. Blood oozed sluggishly from the wound. Wynne extended Alistair's arm and inserted the opposite end of the reed into his skin. The warden gasped and flinched.

"Hold still, Alistair." Wynne cautioned. "And warn me if you begin to feel dizzy or lightheaded. Leliana, are you ready?"

_No. No. I want to crawl inside myself and die. This is my fault. Had I not been so tormented, had I not let my trauma overtake me, I could have fought, we could have prevented this. But Salem, ancient gods damn her, she knew. She knew and took all of our punishment upon herself. And all I see before me is the damage done to her body…I have no way of knowing…if she experienced…all of my torments. _

I nodded, briefly. Wynne removed her sharpened healer's knife from her pack and held it poised, over Salem's right side. She laid the blade against Salem's skin, and looked at me. "Be strong." she told me. "For Salem."

_Salem, forgive me. I love you. _"Do what you must."

Wynne sliced deeply into Salem's skin. Her body jerked, registering the pain even though she was not awake to feel it. "Spread the skin." Wynne ordered.

My throat tightened and I felt I would be sick as I pried apart Salem's skin, opening it wide enough for Wynne's deft fingers to enter the wound. The healer grasped my lover's bone, pulling it from the lung it had impaled. Salem made a soft noise of pain and relief. She coughed and blood spattered her lips, spilling from the corner of her mouth in a thick, crimson line.

"I am here, my love." I whispered a stream of nonsenses and encouragements, not caring who heard.

Wynne nudged the bone back in place; the sound sent chills down my spine. Again the blue glow, again the heartbreaking sound of Salem's cries.

_Please, please, please._ My warden's breathing grew quiet. Wynne removed her hand and I laid my ear against Salem's breast, more afraid than I had been in my entire life. Fast, erratic beats caught my ears and I released the breath I had been holding.

"She's alive." I breathed.

Wynne whispered something inaudible and wiped sweat from her brow. She pulled needle and thread from her satchel and began stitching the tear in Salem's body. I smoothed Salem's hair away from her sweat soaked skin, streaking her face with her own blood. My warden's temperature was dangerously elevated; her body straining to fight infection.

There was a notch in the shell of her left ear. I saw the marks of tiny, razor teeth and winced, remembering the rats gnawing on my ankles and fingers as I lay in the dungeons of Val Royeaux.

Wynne tied off the stitches and moved to Salem's arm, detaching the reed from her skin and elevating Alistair's arm. I tore a strip of bedding and bandaged the new wound in Salem's body, hating myself, hating Wynne, hating everything.

_ Why is it that to heal, we must cause more damage than existed in the beginning? This is not **fair**__;__ this is not __**right**_**. **

Alistair flinched as Wynne pulled the reed from his arm. "Was it enough?" he asked, sounding worried. "I have more."

"You've done well." Wynne assured him. "Morrigan, get Alistair something to eat and some water and have him sit down. It will not do to have two wardens incapacitated. Leliana, we need to cleanse and bandage her wounds."

I reached for the bottle of wine, hands trembling with fear and fatigue. "When…" I began to ask.

"When her fever breaks." Wynne anticipated the question and answered it. "She is under too much strain to endure more healing magic. Be careful of her ribs." she cautioned, "We cannot risk further internal injury."

"Of course." I soaked a cloth in wine and began to clean the deep gash in Salem's temple. I paused, letting my fingers trace the contours of her face. I could have sworn her lips quirked in a smile.

_Come back to me, my love. I am waiting for you._


	23. Chapter 23

**Salem**

_"Salem," my mother's voice, kind in my ears, "you need to wake up."_

_ "Don't feel well." I mutter, reaching for the covers with a hand that is not mine. There are no blue spiderweb scars, no puncture from a broken knight's frustrated blade._

_ "I know." my mother tugs the covers down and smooths my hair with her fingers. "That is not important. There are those waiting for you. They need you, Salem."_

_ "But…"_

_ "No arguments." my mother speaks with authority, an immovable tone. I have no choice in this matter. "Open your eyes."_

_ I crack my eyelids and the light blinds me; pain fires through my temples. "Hurts."_

_ "You are stronger than this." she insists. "Open. Your. Eyes."_

_ I clench my fists and grit my teeth, readying myself for the barrage of unpleasant sensations awaiting me in the waking world._

* * *

I peeled open my eyes; one opened fully, the other a narrow slit. I glanced around the room. A fire burned in the corner, surrounded in a hazy halo.

_Still night_, I realized, listening to the rain pouring. The sound comforted me; it spoke of air, earth, freedom. _Dear Maker, I hurt._

A dull ache radiated throughout my entire body. I knew even the slightest movement would transpose the ache to agony. I licked my chapped lips, tasting old blood, feeling the gashes in the sensitive skin.

Even though heat radiated from the fire and I was smothered in blankets, I still shivered from cold. Pain fissured through my back and ribs and I winced, taking shaky breaths. _I am safe here_, I forced myself to believe. _Loghain cannot make a move against me in this place, not without arousing suspicions he can ill-afford. There are none here who would seek to cause me pain, none who will barrage my mind and seek truths in my blood that my lips cannot spill._

I shifted my hand, finding it heavily bandaged…and locked within another's grasp. I craned my neck, smiling at the tousled red hair spread out upon the sheets. "Leliana." I whispered, my voice hoarse, and pathetically weak.

_I know you must be exhausted, dear heart, but please, please wake up. I need you so very, very much. _

With great effort, I disentangled my hand from hers. She stirred but did not wake, head shifting, mumbling something in Orlesian. I cursed under my breath, wishing I were not so helpless. Leliana only spoke her native tongue when bewildered, furious, or lost in nightmares.

"Leliana, wake up." I begged, unable to raise my voice from a rasp. "Please, dear heart, do not be troubled."

Awkwardly, I laid my bandaged hand against her hair, working my fingers through it as best I could. Unconscious, she moved toward my touch, made contact with my hand and flinched. I felt an inconsequential stab of pain through my palm.

"S…Salem?" her voice was sleep-drugged, accent thick with remnants of her nightmare. "Salem, are you awake?"

"Yes." I answered, heart swelling with joy as she gazed into my broken eyes with her own.

"How do you feel?" she inquired, sitting up in what had to be the most uncomfortable of chairs.

"Exhausted. In pain." my weakness did not let me lie. Cauthrien's torture had ruined my veneer of invulnerability; I could no longer pretend at strength. "Thirsty."

"I can remedy at least one ailment." Leliana smiled, holding a cup of water to my lips.

I drank, greedy, not caring as the water spilled over my lips and ran down my neck. When the cup had been drained, Leliana set it aside, onto a bedside table. She rested her hand against my forehead, frowning.

"Your temperature is still much too high." she sat back down, resting her elbows on the edge of the bed, burying her face between her hands.

_Do not worry yourself over me. _"Leli," I rested the back of my hand against her forearm, stroking her skin with the minute movements that the bandaging allowed. "Are the others all right? Are you?"

"No." she admitted, her voice low with tears.

"Tell me." I urged her, even though continued wakefulness brought further awareness of pain. "Please."

She lifted her head from her hands and shook it. "You need to rest, my love."

"I need you." I lifted my arm and reached out for her, biting back the pain, holding a stone mask over my face. "All else…can wait."

A new, much more agonizing, pain washed over me as I watched my lover's body racked with sobs. "When…when will you learn, Salem?" she wondered, clearly in agony, "When will you learn to value your life above others?"

"When all the world is dead." I answered.

"You nearly died! _You!_" she cried. "And I am not even strong enough to force you to recover. No. I am so selfish, I am so _spent with fear_ that I barrage you with _my_ needs the moment you open your eyes! Worse yet, I feel _so secure _ in your love that I can do so without second thought! Can you not, Salem, for one moment, _one moment_, be _**human**_!?"

_I…I have no words. Damn me, I have nothing. _"Forgive me, dear heart." I asked, feeling her touch through the bandages as her fingers laced with mine. "I did…what I thought…was best."

"You always do." she condemned me. "And, Maker's curse upon me, I _love_ you for it. But to be here, to sit vigil at your bedside as you struggle for breath and burn with fever…knowing it was I who brought you this pain…"

"No." I propped myself up on my elbows, gasping with the slight effort. "_No._ Do not _dare_…impose this burden…on yourself."

"Lie still." her hands rested on my shoulders, easing me back down onto the pillows. "And it _is_ my burden to carry. I crumbled in Howe's dungeons, Salem, neither of us can deny this. Were I able to fight…were I not so _broken_, you would never have been forced to make that choice."

"I," _please, Maker, let her remain unbroken by __**this**__ truth, _"would have made…the same decision…regardless."

Blood drained from her face, leaving even her lips pale. "Don't say that." she begged. "Please, tell me you are lying, Salem."

"No."

"Then…I am…nothing but a weakness." nightmares flashed inside her eyes, dark dreams brought into the light of day.

"If you ever," I coughed, "say anything that _ludicrous_ again, Leliana, I will be forced to spend the rest of my life disproving you. You _are_ my strength. You _are_ my sanity. _You_ are my _life._"

"A life you nearly gave away." she protested. "For me. Your logic is flawed, my warden."

The hint of a smile crossed her face. _Yes. Yes. There it is. _"Logic…is simple." my previous words had exhausted my short supply of breath. "You live. I live."

"That is the extent of it?" she asked, looking at me with hopeful, prayerful, tear-stained eyes.

I reached out and traced the healing cut on her cheek, smiling as I realized it would not scar. "It is." I answered, freeing her from her guilt, taking the weight from her shoulders. "I love you, Leliana."

"Then rest." she brought my bandaged her hand to my lips and kissed it. "Regain your strength."

"Only if you…do the same." I did not like the trails of tears on her cheeks or the dark circles beneath her eyes.

"I promise." she leaned forward and pressed a feather light kiss against my lips. I did not mind the discomfort, savoring instead the love I felt, eradicating the fear that had been present in her since she had arrived in Howe's dungeon.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to fall back into what nightmares would come. _For her sake._


	24. Chapter 24

**Leliana**

Salem closed her eyes and her body relaxed as it faded into sleep. I pressed my fingers to my eyes, forcing away the tears that wanted to fall. "Damn you." I whispered. "Damn you for always letting me break apart."

It was Salem's particular gift, the allowance of vulnerability. Marjolaine had strictly forbidden indulging in emotion. _She said it was my greatest weakness. My dreams, my hopes, my fears…all were connected to emotion. All were certain to doom me, should I give in to them. But you,_ I touched Salem's fingers with my own,_ you insufferably kind, horrifically understanding, ridiculously noble woman…you have allowed me to be the one person I have never known. My self. _

"I love you." I said, wishing her body were not so broken.

I wanted to wrap my arms around her, press her body to mine, re-assure myself that she was, in fact safe. _But_, harsh reality settled in, _her back is held together by layers of stitches and bandaging. Her ribs are broken. Every part of her skin is bruised. And yet she says, no matter my condition, that she would have still chosen torture. Because…on the off chance that we lost…I would have been sent back down to hell. _

Tears pricked my eyes…again. This time, I let them fall. _This is…who I am. My emotion, my fears, my vulnerabilities. I have nothing to hide any longer. I am no longer swathed in shadows. Thank you, Salem. Thank you for your strength. _

The door jolted and I turned to face it, looking into Alistair's fear-stricken face. "Is Salem all right?" he asked.

"Considering the circumstances, yes." I answered, standing.

The warden's eyes twitched, flicking from me, to Salem, to the fire. "Alistair, what is wrong?"

"A…a dream." he stammered. "I…I had a very, very bad dream."

_And why would that pertain to Salem? _I wondered, thinking the young man exceedingly over-protective. "Alistair…"

"A _Grey Warden_ dream." Alistair interrupted, still shaken by whatever he had seen in slumber. "Bloody death, darkspawn, screaming…the Archdemon and its ear-splitting song. I was worried..." he bit his lip, "…the state she's in."

Understanding struck me and I placed my hand against Salem's forehead. "Her fever's risen." I looked to Alistair. "Go and fetch Wynne. _Now_."

The warden nodded and left the room. I knelt down beside Salem, taking her un-bandaged hand in mine, squeezing it. "Wake up, love." I pleaded, knowing the torment she suffered from the nightmares spawned by her tainted blood.

_Please, before the dream eats you alive and damages you further. _"Salem." I called her name, trying to bring her back into the waking world, to open her eyes, alleviate her nightmares.

My warden's body jerked, as though she had been physically struck. _No, no, no. This is cruel. Beyond cruel._

Salem's body shivered and her eyes worked frantically beneath their bruised lids. Whatever Alistair had witnessed, Salem was seeing it now…and unable to escape.

My warden muttered in her fevered nightmare, turning her head from side to side. Sweat sheened her skin. I sat on the edge of the bed and placed my hands on her shoulders, trying to keep her body still. "Listen to me, Salem." I begged her. "Hear my voice and follow me back."

She struggled beneath my hands; her back arched and a gut wrenching scream peeled from her lips. She collapsed against the bed, moaning softly, tears slipping out from beneath tightly clenched eyelids.

_This is not working. _I adjusted the covers around her body, frowning as I noticed the new red stain across her bandages. _She is tearing open her wounds. What I would not give to be able to walk into her mind and drown out the Archdemon's screams…songs, Alistair said…it might work._

I stroked my hand through Salem's hair, the only part of her body which was not damaged. It had been quite some time since I had sung. _But it has brought her out of nightmares before. It is the only chance I have of bringing her out of this._

I opened my mouth, letting the words of an old ballad come to mind, giving my voice over to music.

"_Out of midnight, out of ashes,_

_break my dark and be my dawn,_

_lay aside the sword for roses_

_as the day leads on and on._

_With a whisper, with the thunder,_

_every moment keeps its spark,_

_hold to fire, hold to memory,_

_as the dawn leads into dark._

_My salvation, my redemption,_

_my ever-waiting light,_

_keep your faith and your heart beating,_

_soon shall come the end of night._"

"Please wake up." I rested my forehead against hers, letting my tears drip onto her face, tasting the salt on her skin as I pressed my lips against it.

Slowly, painfully, Salem's eyes opened. Her lips moved, forming silent words. "_I love you_."

"It appears the only magic needed here was yours." Wynne spoke from the door.

I blushed three furious shades of red. "I…I could do nothing else."

"Is she all right?" Alistair asked.

"Fine." Salem answered, but her breathing was labored; her eyes shone with fear. "T…Thank you, Alistair."

I looked at Wynne, beckoning her closer with my eyes. I wrapped my arm around her as she approached, leaning closer to her ear, not wanting to worry Alistair or Salem. "Her fever is still high." I whispered. "And the wound on her stomach has re-opened. I'm afraid some of the stitches on her back might have been torn."

I pulled away from Wynne and the healer nodded, placing a finger to her lips. "Alistair," she looked to the warden, "please go to the kitchens and fetch Salem something to drink."

The warden looked affronted. "You are trying to get rid of me, aren't you?" he asked, indignant.

"And you are making my task impossible." Wynne smiled, but there was steel in it.

Alistair recognized the look and darted down the hallway, eager to avoid a lecture. The senior enchanter looked down at Salem. "How are you feeling?"

"Like…there's a knife…in my gut." Salem winced as she shifted. "And everywhere else."

Wynne pursed her lips. "Can you turn onto your side?"

Salem nodded, gritting her teeth as she rolled over. Wynne and I sighed in relief as we saw the bandaging free of blood. The healer tugged Salem back down, apologizing for causing the warden pain.

"Your knife wound has re-opened." Wynne informed the warden. "I will have to use magic, Salem."

"It's all right." Salem spoke too fast, lying.

"Wynne, is it safe?" I asked, concerned.

"It is the safest way we have." Wynne answered, wasting no time. She held her hand over the blood-stain and released her magic into Salem's body.

Underneath the bruising, Salem paled, her eyes clenched in agony and a cry ripped from her throat. She breathed in jerking, uneven gasps…too fast.

"Salem," I sat beside her, laying my hands on her shoulders, "Salem, love, breathe. Slowly."

Wynne withdrew her hand and Salem lay twitching as aftershocks of pain flooded her. Her eyes locked with mine, afraid; her breathing did not slow. Her uninjured hand reached out and latched onto my shirt, twisting the material into a knot.

Salem's eyes rolled back in her head as she lost consciousness. Her grip on my shirt loosened and I brought her hand to my lips, kissing her fingers with trembling lips.

I regained my composure. "Wynne?"

"She's not well, Leliana." the healer spoke, grim. "The infection must have spread deeper than I thought. Her fever should have broken by now."

"She has been unconscious, not truly resting." I spoke, bitter against the world, against fate, against the hands that had done this to the one I loved. "What sleep she could have gotten was interrupted by that…that _fucking_ nightmare."

"The trials of a warden are little understood." Wynne sponged Salem's brow with a lavender scented cloth. She looked up at me, a kind smile on her face. "The trials of those that love them are understood even less. You look exhausted, Leliana. You should try to sleep."

"No." I shook my head, vehement. "I…I do not wish to leave her side."

"I will look after Salem." Wynne promised. "And there is a comfortable sofa near the fire. Rest, child. You can trust me to wake you if there is any change."

I rubbed my thumb across Salem's knuckles, pursing my lips. _The last time I walked away from you in this city…I was called back, by Wynne, to say my farewells. Can I trust that lightning will not strike twice? Can I trust that when I wake, you will still be with me in this world?_

My eyelids fluttered, tempted by the thought of sleep, of venturing to a place free from worry and guilt. "Dream sweetly, my love." I squeezed her hand, gentle, and went to the sofa. I lay down and closed my eyes, whispering a prayer as slumber quickly overtook me.


	25. Chapter 25

**Salem**

"How is she?"

_ …that voice. I know that voice. Why is it here?_

"Touch and go. I will be able to do more once her condition stabilizes, but until then…"

_Wynne. She sounds so tired. How long…how long have I been sleeping?_

"That does not surprise me. My father always claimed that one would know a true Cousland by their inability to bear a healer's touch."

_What? Why have I never heard that?_

"I see. So this is a hereditary trait then? One not peculiar to Salem herself?"

_Wake up, Salem. Wake up._

I opened my eyes and winced as light pierced them. The sun had risen, but I still heard the sound of rain. A light touch rested on my hand and I looked into Anora's sky blue eyes.

"Rumors are," Fereldan's queen spoke to Wynne, "that during the war with Orlais, Bryce Cousland suffered more from a simple healing spell than a chevalier's weapon."

"He…never…told me." I whispered, voice harsh.

Wynne held a cup of water to my lips, a silent order for me to drink. I finished the water and Wynne set the glass aside.

"He wouldn't." Anora gave me the ghost of a smile. Her face was strained, pale, and her eyes had violet smudges beneath them. "You and your damn Cousland pride."

Wynne pursed her lips. "Perhaps I should excuse myself." she stood.

"Wynne, wait." she turned to me. "Leliana?"

A long-suffering smile crossed her lips. "She is still asleep, warden. When last you woke, she was near dead on her feet."

_Thank the Maker. I could not have paid for better companions. _"Bless you, Wynne." I blinked and my eyes stayed closed a little longer than was normal. "Thank you for caring for the both of us."

"It is my privilege." the senior enchanter smiled. "I am going to fetch Morrigan to watch over you, Salem. The Denerim market opens soon, and my supplies are running low. Perhaps if you could manage to stay in one piece…"

"Perish the thought." I grinned, wincing as my bruised face protested.

"Please do not overtire her, your majesty." Wynne looked to Anora.

"In the midst of battle, healers overrule regents." the queen nodded her understanding and Wynne departed the room.

Anora's eyes met mine and an awkward silence descended. We had lived vastly different lives since the war ended. Anora had become a politician, waging wars with words and fighting duels with pens. As for me…well…the title Grey Warden had eclipsed everything that I might have become.

"I do not know what to say." Anora averted her eyes and shook her head. "I never thought I would see you again. Least of all under these circumstances."

"I must admit, this is not quite how I imagined it."

"You imagined this?" she asked, eyes widening.

"We would have been forced to see each other eventually, Anora." I smiled. "Were circumstances different, I would have come to Denerim as a noble."

Anora scoffed. "When did your tongue become gilded?" her tone was bitter. "Were circumstances different…"

"What do you want me to say?" I wondered. "That I do not recall our history? That I prefer my life as a warden? Do you wish an apology for Cailan's death? It would mean precious little from my lips, but I could offer it to you."

Tears gathered in Anora's eyes and she wiped them away, laughing under her breath. "An apology? No. I know why Cailan is dead." she sighed. "And it is not the fault of the wardens, as my father would lead my country to believe."

_So she did not believe Loghain. Thank the Maker for that blessing. _"Thank you…for that."

"Thank me for nothing." she ran her hand through her loose golden hair. "I am quite certain I am responsible for your injuries."

_You think too much of yourself, Anora. Or, perhaps we are too far removed from each other. You no longer know who I am. _"It seems all the world clamors to take blame for my scars." I smiled. "I believe I am forbidden from earning them myself."

Anora chuckled. "I see your peculiar bent of humor remains unchanged. I often missed your acerbic commentary at court functions after…well…after the disagreement."

"The disagreement?" I coughed. "Now who speaks with a gilded tongue?"

Anora met my eyes at last, flinching as she saw the scars that had been inflicted, even there. "Fine. But do not pretend that you are unaware that our positions should be reversed. Ferelden wanted Cousland for her king."

I shifted upwards, onto the pillows, feeling dizzy as pain washed through my body. I lay still, catching my breath, trying to understand Anora's game. _Does she want me to feel guilt? Is she trying to garner information for Loghain? I have no way of knowing._

"Our fates were never ours, Anora." I whispered. "We have simply followed what roads were laid before us."

"And in one terrible battle, Ferelden finds its original decisions overturned." Anora gazed out of the window, looking back on darker times. "Theirin vanquished, Cousland all but extinguished, and a Mac Tir on the throne. My father cannot bear the slight...he says that Mac Tir will _earn_ its royalty, not accept it by default."

"He is not content that his daughter wears the crown?" I asked, though I felt I already knew the answer. "Must he have it for himself?"

"Of course." Anora's bitterness returned. "He _knew_ Howe would wipe out your family with little to no encouragement. He _knew_ Cailan would kill himself, provided an opportunity for glory was presented. Damn that naïve, ignorant, _beautiful_ boy." there was a faraway look in her eyes. "He longed for a legacy that rivaled Maric's. I wanted to make a name for myself that my father could not overshadow. And you…what did you desire, Salem?"

_What my father wanted. _"Peace." I answered. "It seems we all find ourselves enslaved to our father's wishes."

"Indeed."

_Side with me in the Landsmeet, Anora, and you will achieve your desire. Cailan earned his with his death in defense of Ferelden. And, if I survive, I __**will**__ bring peace to this land. I swear it._

"Anora…"

"No." she shook her head. "Just…no, Salem. Those times are beyond us now. We are different women. Your hands are more suited to a sword, mine are suited to drafting laws. And you have…" her eyes flitted to the couch where Leliana lay in slumber, "…very _devoted_ friends."

"Joy in tragedy." I closed my eyes against the light as the sun peered into the room. "I have been accorded my blessings."

Anora stood, sensing my exhaustion, the fading of my lucidity. "You have my support at the Landsmeet, Salem. And you may thank her for it."

I smiled as dark dreams once more took me away. _Of course. If something ventures right in my life, Leliana's hands have graced it. Thank you, my love._


	26. Chapter 26

**Leliana**

I opened my eyes, adjusting my vision to the light in the room. Taking a deep breath, I shoved my hair out of my face and sat up. The light dimmed and I glanced toward the window, watching a disgruntled witch draw the shades.

"Pleased, your majesty?" she asked.

"Thank you, Morrigan." Salem spoke from the bed.

I frowned. Her voice sounded no stronger than it had during the night.

"At last you rouse yourself." Morrigan directed her acidic tones at me. "Now, perhaps _you_ can attend to your warden's whims and fancies."

_It is far too early for this_. I rubbed my temples, attempting to stave off the beginnings of a headache. _And something is...off. Morrigan's words are angry but…her eyes. She is afraid._

I rose and walked over to the witch, determined not to let her burrow underneath my skin. "How is she?" I asked.

"I am _fine_." Salem answered, voice taut.

"You are as far from _fine_ as I am from salvation." Morrigan hissed. "'Tis a wonder she has not yet driven you mad, songstress."

_What in the Maker's name have I stumbled into?_ "I must confess that I am utterly bewildered."

Morrigan sighed. "Her condition remains unstable. Her fever broke early this morning, after Wynne left to re-supply. That reprieve, however, seems short-lived. Needless to say, she is none too pleased, and I must admit that I am…concerned."

_Maker's breath. Why can nothing ever be __**simple?**_ I looked at the witch, saw the anxiety in her golden eyes, the swollen edge of her lip where she had worried the skin with her teeth.

"Go and get something to eat, Morrigan. Fresh air, perhaps. I will take care of Salem."

She sniffed, as though insulted, but her eyes screamed with thanks. I turned to Salem, shaking my head. _I have become too much like you, my warden. Taking another's fears onto my shoulders is…new…and unpleasant. How do you carry an entire country's anxieties and concerns on your shoulders, my love?_

I pulled a chair alongside Salem's bed and sat down. My warden was pale; her eyes over-bright, filled with anguish and anger.

"Make it stop." she begged in a whisper, body trembling with pain. "Please, Leliana. Make the pain stop."

I took her bandaged hand between both of mine as my heart broke. "Stay strong." I urged her. "A little longer."

"Tired." she closed her eyes, trying to fight what must have been unimaginable agony. "Hurting. Sick…with…pretending strength. How…how did you do it?"

"Do what?" I asked, soaking a cloth and placing it on her brow, trying to alleviate the fire burning beneath her skin.

"Bear it?" she answered, gritting her teeth and clutching my hand. "Every time I close my eyes, I am back in Howe's dungeons, and when I wake, the pain returns. The world is crumbling and I am _helpless_! How…how did you endure?"

"Time." my voice trembled as I watched tears slide down her cheeks. "A great deal of time."

"I do not have time." Salem groaned, turning her fever-bright eyes to mine. "Leliana, I don't _have_ time. I should be in Denerim's streets, tearing apart Loghain's reputation and support. Not…not here, chained inside my _fucking __**broken **_body!"

_I feared this would happen. Wynne has always been able to heal her in an expedient manner. She has never been in this position before. _

As gentle as possible, I loosened Salem's grip on my hand. I did not want her to tear open the knife wound in her palm.

"It will be all right, love." I promised her. "You have time. Concentrate on getting well." _for all of our sakes. _"Is…is there anything I can do for you?"

Salem's body seemed to relax. "Water?" she asked. "Please."

"Of course." I pressed a kiss to her cheek, rose from my chair, and walked down the stairs to the kitchens. The staff avoided me as I filled a pitcher with water from the well. I turned to go back up the stairs, glancing at the floor. I felt sick to my stomach as one of Eamon's servants scrubbed away the blood from last night.

_Salem's blood. I was given time to recover, time to contemplate, to heal. She does not have that luxury. I may have rescued her from Howe's dungeons, but here, even in safety, Salem's torture continues. _

I ascended the stairs and made my way to Salem's room. I eased open the door and the pitcher fell from my hands. I rushed to the bed, heart pounding.

Salem sat on the edge, visibly shaking. The sound of her breathing was audible; her bandages striped with blood.

"_Salem_!" I raised my voice, panicked. "_What in __**hell**__ are you doing?"_

_ Damn it, I should not have left! _

"Injuries…have not…held me back…before." Salem panted.

"Lie down." I ordered her, forcing her body back onto the mattress, being careful of her wounds. _She's burning up._ "You have not been injured this severely since Ishal. We all have _limits_, Salem. You can only exceed them _so many times_."

"Need…need to get out of here." Salem resisted my touch, tears of frustration building in her eyes.

"You _can't_." I stressed, hating myself for the iron in my voice, for my inability to comfort her. "What good are you to this mission if you bleed out in the streets?"

"I…I cannot do this, Leliana." Salem gripped my hand in her uninjured one after I laid covers over her body.

_Maker, forgive me for this. _"You _must_." I sat beside her and smoothed her hair. "I need you to endure. I _need_ you to recover. Please, Salem, hold out a little longer. For me."

"Then hold me." she whispered. "Please. I need to feel…something…other than pain."

I bit the inside of my cheek, straining to hold back tears. "Are you certain? Your injuries…"

"Please. I don't care if it kills me."

_I do. You will make it through this, Salem. I am here for you._

I lay down beside her and rested my hand on her hip so as not to aggravate her broken ribs. "Do not do something so idiotic again, Salem." I warned her.

"Why?" her tone was faraway, bitter…laced with exhaustion and defeat.

I kissed the back of her neck, feather-light. "Because I cannot live without you." I whispered in her ear.


	27. Chapter 27

**Salem**

We lay there in silence. I closed my eyes, letting tears of grief and hopelessness slip between my lids. My heart ached as tremors of pain spiraled through my body, as I felt Leliana tense behind me. I knew that every moment spent at my side was like a dagger in her gut. Seeing me this way, broken, battered, had driven her from my side before.

_I wonder_, dark thoughts snaked through my mind, _how close she is to that edge. I wonder if her heart will once more give out and she will be forced to flee my side from grief alone. Already I have dragged her into hell, first burying her in a dungeon and then submitting to torture for her sake…for all of their sakes. Maker, why,_ I focused on the warmth radiating from Leliana's touch as agony shredded through me_, why? I was __**young**__. I had so __**much**__ to look forward to. A __**life**__…a fucking __**unscarred**__ life._

"What can I do?" Leliana asked, her breath cooling the heat beneath my skin. "Salem, what can I do?"

"Stay with me." I begged, asking for more than just her physical presence.

I asked her for her trust, for her devotion, that she subvert her own pain and help me bear mine. It was the most selfish request I had ever made.

"I couldn't leave." she answered, pressing closer. "Not again."

A sigh of relief shuddered out of my body, even as I trembled with a pain I could no longer suppress.

A knock at the door sounded, a distraction I was grateful for, until Leliana rose from the bed and answered it.

"Is the warden awake?" I heard Eamon's voice.

"Yes, but…"

"This cannot wait." the arl interrupted. "News of gravest importance has just reached my ears."

_Of course. Duty calls loudest when I am unable to answer. _"Give him entrance." I said, rolling from my side onto my back, hissing as both ribs and lacerations protested.

Eamon entered the room, frowning as he saw me. "Maker's blood-soaked breath, Lady Cousland. What did that brute do to you?"

"Nothing." I smiled, an attempt at humor. "I fell."

"Heaven help us." Leliana muttered, hiding a smile behind her hand.

Eamon cleared his throat. "It is not my intent to distress you further, warden, but I felt this matter could not wait."

"Speak." I assured him, hating that I could not stand and face this news with swords at the ready.

"I have received word from a messenger, a defector, if you will, in Loghain's city guards. He informs me that there is a great deal of unrest in the elven Alienage, and that he believes that Loghain's actions are the cause."

"What sort of unrest?" I asked, forcing myself further up onto my pillows, biting my lip against the pain.

"Well, there were rumors of a plague, some weeks back." Eamon stroked his beard, lost in thought. "And aid was sent, but the Alienage is largely self-contained, so very little was thought thereafter. However, it seems that there have been multiple disappearances, and no bodies of the plague victims."

_This…this is quite blatantly __**obvious**_**. **_However, if Loghain is behind this, then it is quite brilliant. In a time of unrest, the elves would be perfect prey. Not a soul to care…not one would. The elves are second class citizens. For all the railing against Orlais treating us as their slaves and bastard children, we treat the elves no differently under our new government. Ferelden has failed in this regard._

"This matter bears further investigation." I acknowledged, watching the crease between Eamon's brows ease. "Speak with Alistair. He is more than capable of carrying out this mission."

"Are you certain, Salem?" Eamon asked, but his reluctance was not in trusting Alistair. He did not wish the young man's life be placed in danger.

_But my own life seems to be expendable. Alistair is dear to Eamon. The arl would suffer should something happen. I have no family left to grieve for me. Only her. Only Leliana._

"Quite certain." I assured the arl. "Tell him to take Morrigan and…" _forgive me, dear heart_, "…and Leliana."

"Of course." Eamon applied a noble's mask and left the room to disseminate my orders.

"Salem, no." Leliana began her argument as the door closed. "You cannot ask me to leave you!"

"It was not a request." I answered, donning my own mask. Warden Commander. Leader. I may not have had the power to stand, but by the Maker, I _would_ bring Loghain to his knees.

"No." she stated, fierce, glaring at me, her eyes filled with ice and pain. "No. You cannot ask that I abandon you while…while…"

"While I am injured so gravely that I might die?" I asked, hating the shock and agony that crossed her features. "This is the matter of my life or the lives of thousands. A country's stability and safety is worth…worth more than the life of one Grey Warden."

"Not to me." Leliana dropped to her knees, taking my hand in her. "Not to me, Salem. Your life is that which I hold most precious. To ask me to leave you…even if it may be to aid you is…"

"Unconscionable." I finished her thoughts with my own. "Forgive me for asking this of you. But I _need_ you to be there. In Wynne's absence you are our sole voice of reason. And the only other who can make Alistair and Morrigan work in accord. Please, Leliana, for my sake."

"I…" tears slipped from her eyes, "…I should be more than willing. You have done so much for me and yet…perhaps I am too selfish."

"I love you for it." I reached out, disguising my pain, tracing her cheek with my fingertips. "Please believe me when I tell you that I _loathe_ placing you in harm's way while I am not there to protect you…"

"No." she shook her head, something in my words striking a spark. "I know you, Salem. If I refuse to leave you, you will tear yourself off of that bed and kill yourself in attempt to see this through. You are…you are asking me to protect you."

I smiled, feeling exhausted from those few words shared. "I am."

_ You have seen every side of me…cold, ruthless, calm, altruistic…vulnerable. I love you with all that I am, Leliana. _

"Then," she cleared her throat and wiped her eyes, "I will do this. Keep safe, my love."

"I swear it." I smiled, closing my eyes as my ever waning strength departed. "Take…Burrow…with you."

"Of course."

The last thing I remembered was her lips ghosting my own with a kiss.


	28. Chapter 28

**Leliana**

"Loghain's guards." Alistair eyed the gate to the Alienage, sighing. "I feel we may as well give this up for lost."

"Losing nerve already without your warden to hide behind?" Morrigan quipped. "'Tis as simple as showing them Eamon's authorization of passage."

"Nothing _about this_ is _simple_." Alistair stressed, voice taut. "Perhaps you should transform into a dog and distract the guards with a game of fetch, if you think entrance can be gained so handily."

_Salem, why in hell did you send me along with this…this wreck? Alistair has done nothing but speculate on how horrifically this could end; Morrigan done nothing but goad him on and feed his insecurities. Why did you think I should play the mediator?_

"Keep quiet, the both of you." I snarled, snatching a rolled parchment from Alistair's hand. "You," I glared at him, "need to find in yourself the confidence that Salem places in you. And you," I turned to Morrigan, "I know you dislike him, and me even more, but for the sake of sanity, either transform into a dog or cease being a bitch."

Burrow whined, pressing his head against the palm of my hand, anxious to know if I disapproved of him.

"Good boy." I scratched him behind his missing ear, glaring at my other two companions.

"That…" Alistair spoke.

"…was uncalled for." Morrigan finished, tilting her chin at its ubiquitous haughty angle. "What are you playing at, songstress? Attempting to wear Salem's mantle are you?"

_You cold, vile, heartless apostate. _I pursed my lips, letting grief cross my eyes. "We both know that no one can take her place or don her mantle."

"Then why are we even here?" Alistair kicked at the dirt with his boot. "Why are we attempting to take her place, to carry out a mission that we stand a chance of failing?"

"Because she cannot." I spoke the bitter truth and left them, walking towards the guards. "And so we must." I spoke to myself.

"The Alienage is closed." the guards crossed their spears before me.

I deepened the tone of my voice, attempting to erase my Orlesian accent. "We've been sent by Arl Eamon. Here," I extended the parchment, "papers of passage, officially sealed."

The guard extended his hand and unrolled the paper, glaring at the ink as though it befuddled him. "What's your business in the Alienage?" he asked. "Got a nasty plague rolling through. Regent Loghain says it's best to keep travel to a minimum."

"Trade interests." I replied. "War may arise and plagues sweep through, but gold must keep moving or all the world stands still."

The guards snorted. "True enough. Fine then. But no needless tarrying. Finish your lord's business and be on your way."

"As you say." I mimicked Salem, turning my head and motioning to the others to follow.

A disgruntled, nervous Alistair and a cross-armed Morrigan walked through the gate with me. I shook my head, lost in thought as we searched the streets of the Alienage.

_I know Salem hoped that Alistair would come into his own, to lead us, command us, as he soon must do for an entire country. I have seen the strength that he keeps locked inside him. He simply must learn to trust his own judgment…but he is insecure in his abilities. And_, I bit my lip, cataloguing my own weaknesses, _who would not question themselves, when faced by Salem? She is so certain, so adamantine in her decisions. But...none of the others know…she has told no one of her questions in the few moments when she can collect her thoughts and reflect on what she has done. She does not speak of the guilt she feels, the weight of the blood on her hands, the nightmares where she is forced to revisit every mistake. _

I glanced at Alistair, the crease in his brow, the set of his lips, the way his worried eyes stayed ever in motion.

_She presents them with what they need to see. A fearless leader. A woman so intuitive she can ascertain the measure of one's soul in a heartbeat. The woman who mocks destiny and laughs in the face of death as though daring it to come for her._

"Well, well," Morrigan commented, "'twould seem we have found the center of discord."

A group of elves had gathered in front of a large building. The four of us stopped, assessing the situation.

"We will leave when we are given information!" a strong, female voice echoed across the streets. A young, elven woman with startling red hair stood in the midst of the crowd, yelling at a closed door. "Our fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, and children have been taken! Do you expect us to sit idly by as our loved ones vanish! At least publish a list of the names of the dead, but do not cower in silence!"

The door opened and a man in armor strode out. "Are you trying to bring death early by disturbing their rest?" he glared at all assembled, then to the red-haired elf. "You…again. Clear off of this doorstep, elven harpy! You will have what you ask when we give it to you. Not before. Regent's orders."

The door slammed and the elves began to disassemble, leaving the girl behind. I walked forward, approaching from the side. I knew weapons were forbidden to the elves, but those locked in slavery often found ways to gather what they had been denied.

She heard my footsteps and turned to face me, wrath filling her eyes as she realized that I was not one of her own. "What do you want, _shem_?" she flung the insult at me like a dagger. "Have you come to gloat as my people suffer? Have you come to see us at the end of hope?"

"No." I shook my head, raising my hands. _I am not here to fight you. I am not here to cause harm. Maker, give me words. _"I am Leliana of Orlais."

"An introduction, _shem_?" she bit. "Elves are also given names."

"Then please, do me the honor of sharing yours."

She tilted her chin, scrutinizing me. I felt uncomfortable beneath her gaze. My eyes did not shine with honesty. They did not remain calm in the fiercest of battles. I was not Salem. _But I must do this. For her. _

"Shianni." the elf spoke, relenting. "My name is Shianni. Why in hell are you here?"

"We've come on behalf of the Grey Warden, Salem Cousland." I took a deep breath.

"Cousland?" the elf asked, looking to the ground, lost in thought. "The only noble house that never bound a human or an elf as a slave? And a Grey Warden? What interest would a warden have in Denerim's alienage?"

"We believe there is more afoot here than a plague." I answered, thanking the Maker that word of the Cousland's nobility had reached even these poor streets. "We want to help you, Shianni, if we can. Please, tell us what has transpired."

Shianni ran her hand through her hair as Alistair and Morrigan approached. "There…there was a plague." she said. "Many of us fell ill, and nothing we could do would save our…our families. Then, the shems came, with mages and guards. They took our sick and set up in that warehouse." she nodded towards the door. "We have not been allowed to see our families, and no word has been sent, but contingents of guards arrive by night, after curfew…more people always leave than arrive."

"And why have you not tried to gather the information yourselves?" Morrigan asked.

Burrow sensed my displeasure and growled at the witch, who promptly retreated a step and sealed her lips.

"As you plainly saw, words are ineffectual, and elves are forbidden to have weapons." Shianni glared at us as though we were the ones who had written those laws. "And any chance we have of a united front disappeared when our village elder was taken to the House of Healing, as they call it." she spat in the building's direction. "He did not even seem to be ill."

Taking a risk, I placed my hand on her shoulder. "Go home, Shianni." I told her. "I swear to you, we will find out what has happened to your people."

"There is a back door, and it is usually less guarded. Creators be with you." Shianni's tone was acid.

_She does not believe our words…and who could blame her? _

The elf walked away and I began to circle the building, trusting Alistair and Morrigan to follow behind me. I found the door Shianni spoke of, eyeing the single guard that leaned against the wall.

I pulled a dagger and approached him, smiling. "Excuse me, kind sir," I tossed my hair and smiled as he glanced up. I drew closer, keeping my eyes lowered, drawing him in, luring him. "Could you tell me where I might find…"

In a flash, my arm snapped up and I shoved my dagger through his chin, into his mouth, killing him and silencing whatever warning he might call. I wrenched the blade out and cleaned it as the body collapsed. I knelt down and wrenched the key he carried on his belt.

"That…" Alistair began.

"'Twas most expedient." Morrigan completed the thought.

_Salem…you had best pray that you are well enough to retaliate against when I return. This…this is nearly unforgivable. _


	29. Chapter 29

**Salem**

"Salem." insistence, impatience, and worry. "Salem, open your eyes."

I kept my eyes closed, trying to shut out the waking world. I felt as though every ounce of strength had been wrung from my body.

"_Salem_." the voice grew stronger.

I opened my eyes and adjusted to the glare of the light, noticing that it no longer sent pain shooting across my temples. Wynne's kind eyes smiled into mine.

"Is…everything…all right?" I asked, feeling…strangely well.

Pain still gnawed at my body, but the ferocity of it had eased. The trappings of the room were no longer painted in bladed edges, the voices of those near me no longer rang like discordant cymbals.

"All is well, Salem, barring that misfortune befalls our companions in the Alienage." Wynne answered, unwrapping the bandages around my hand.

"Then why…wake me?" I wondered.

"Your fever has broken." she informed me. "I thought you would prefer I heal you sooner as opposed to the alternative."

"No." I answered, and the healer smiled.

"As I thought." she pressed a glass against my lips. "Here. I have taken the liberty of adding some herbs that will ease your pain."

I drank the mixture that she offered, wincing at the bitter taste of the herbs. _I hate this feeling of uselessness as much as I dread the pain of healing. Please, dear Maker, give me the strength to endure this. _

"Do…what you must." I said, basking in the pleasant lassitude that had arrived with the fever's departure.

"Very well." Wynne gave me a sympathetic smile. There was pity in her gaze. "Salem, I do apologize. I have studied healing magic from my youth; worked as a journeyman healer for decades…I have never chanced upon an individual with a seemingly hereditary aversion to magic. I have scoured my mind these last hours, trying to find some technique, remember some spell that would help me accomplish this without causing you pain."

"I appreciate your effort, Wynne. I could have told you it was fruitless."

I, too, had spent a great deal of my youth in the Cousland library, researching our histories of magic, attempting to discover why healing affected me in such a strange manner. My father had never informed me that he shared the same reaction…that we held a similar weakness in our blood.

"Do forgive me." Wynne turned her attention to the battered wreck that was my body. "Maker's breath," she muttered, speaking to herself, "where do I even begin?"

"My hand." I requested. "It feels…wrong somehow."

"Ever the warrior." Wynne took my partially un-bandaged hand between her weathered ones. "You do not even have the power to stand and you are asking that I first mend your hand."

I laughed under my breath, feeling my ribs twinge. "Please, Wynne."

"As you wish." she sighed, extending a roll of bandaging. "Bite down on this. No need to frighten the serving staff."

_Leliana…_I thought as Wynne tucked the cloth between my teeth…_I am glad that you are with Alistair, striving to save this country that is not even truly your own. But…I must admit that I wish for you here, at my side. _

Wynne closed her eyes and sank into her magic. A blue glow spindled from her fingertips and entered the knife wound in the palm of my hand. I bit down on the cloth as a scream tore out of my throat. Wynne flinched at the sound and it broke my heart.

_I'm…sorry. _Even my thoughts gasped for breath. _Your…gift…ends suffering…why…Maker's __**fucking**__ breath…__**why!?**_

The flow of magic ceased and my muscles relaxed as the immediate pain ended. Tiny aftershocks rippled through me as the healer pursed her lips, assessing her work.

"Salem, can you move your hand?" she asked.

I flexed the muscles, curling my fingers into a fist, extending them, multiple times. It felt sore, tense, but no longer agonizing. I lifted my hand into my line of vision, noticing the white scar nestled in and amidst the spiderwebbing blue lines.

_How long will it be until there is no unmarked part of my body? Until all I am is a wreck of flesh and cracked bone? When that moment comes, will the world at last give me peace? Too long I have thought that the end of the Archdemon would return my life to me. As this journey continues, I am no longer certain. I am beginning to think that I shall never know another day of rest. _

"Excellent." Wynne placed the back of her hand against my forehead, then placed her fingers against the pulse point at my neck. "Your heart rate is elevated, but not dangerously so. Your temperature is steady. I do not wish to overburden you, Salem, but it would be in all of our best interests to have you up and about again. I know the arl is eager to discuss your strategy for the Landsmeet."

_I know. There is so much that remains to be done. We lost precious time while I was chained in Howe's dungeons._

I spat the wad of bandaging from my mouth and locked eyes with the senior enchanter. "Do it." I said, bracing myself for agony that rivaled my torture. "Everything. As much as you can."

Wynne squeezed my hand in her own, a mother's sorrow in her eyes. "I will not endanger your life by healing you," she chuckled, "as ludicrous as that sounds. I will do what I can to take you out of harm's way. You will still be in no condition to fight, but you will no longer be bedridden."

"A mercy that." I replied with a wry smile as Wynne replaced the cloth between my teeth.

A strong wave of magic rippled through my body and I felt it burning beneath my skin, as though my blood had been replaced with lava. My heart screamed as it began beating faster; my lungs felt as though they were being slowly stripped apart, layer by layer, with razors. I screamed and tears flooded my eyes, spilling down across my cheeks.

The cloth between my lips fell away and my cries echoed off the stone floors.

"No more!" I cried, begging like a child. "Maker's blood, Wynne, _please!_"

The mage did not respond; kept forcing her magic into my body. I began trembling, shaking as Wynne poured magic through me. I ground my teeth together, forcing myself to breathe as black hovered at the edges of my vision.

"Finished." Wynne whispered, catching her breath. "Salem, are you all right?"

I could only look at her with tear filled eyes.

"I know, child, I know." she cleaned the sweat and tears from my skin. "You can rest now."

"Th…thank you." I panted, feeling a sensation of numbness as Wynne's herbs took effect.

"Forgive me, Salem." Wynne apologized for her gifts…which had restored life, brought hope, and saved countless lives.

_You should never feel the need to apologize for this, Wynne. Not even to me. _

I closed my eyes, knowing that when next I woke, there would be no rest for the weary. _There are miles…still to go._


	30. Chapter 30

**Leliana**

"This is wrong." I whispered as we entered the room. It stank of sweat, sickness, and fear. But…nothing else. Healing magic had a particular scent, as did elfroot. I could sense neither of them.

"I agree." Alistair nodded. "There should be beds, supplies…_people_."

"Are we quite through stating what is before our eyes?" Morrigan asked, impatiently inspecting the room. "There is nothing here. We should return to the elves and tell them that it is naught but deception. Let them sort it out for themselves."

"There is something here." I stated, _you stone-hearted bitch._

"I…" Alistair glanced around and tugged at the straps of his gorget, "…I agree with Morrigan."

"Do attempt to deepen that grimace, Alistair." Morrigan teased. "I do not believe you have conveyed the truest extent of your feelings."

"Both of you, hush." I hissed, feeling as though I had been sent to look after children. "I…I know there is something to be found here."

"How?" they asked in unison.

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, understanding why Salem repeated this action many times within the day. Already a dull pain had begun to throb between my temples.

"Due to the nature of it all." I replied. "By the mere presence of seemingly nothing, it indicates that _something_ must in fact be here, even if that _something_ is the absence of anything."

_Look for the voids,_ ancient words from Marjolaine echoed in my ears. _Seek them out. There is always something to be found vacant places, because such places are not natural. This is where we are different from the rabble, pretty thing. We see what is not there for what it is. _

"How Salem endures your rambling prattle is beyond my comprehension." Morrigan lifted her hand, waving it in dismissal. "But since my alternatives are to search this place until I lose consciousness from the stench, or wait in the even filthier alley with…"she glanced at Alistair, "…that."

"Do forgive me if remaining here damages your delicate constitution." I seethed, venturing further into the room.

_I always admired you for your patience, Salem, but I never understood how far it truly extended. After a few candlemarks in the company of these two, I am quite willing to tear out my hair. How do you even begin to manage to keep the rest of us focused? _

The dim glow of a single oil lamp flickered in the corner of the room. I edged closer, signaling the others to keep silent. Voices met my ears, foreign, harsh…Antivan.

_What in hell are Antivans doing in a Ferelden alienage? This smacks of treason. High treason. _A shudder rippled through me. _A crime for which Salem and I have experienced punishment, though we did not commit it. And I highly doubt that whoever is perpetrating this crime is suffering for it in some dungeon hell. _

I crept forward, keeping to the shadows, wishing Zevran were here to translate what was being said. Morrigan followed close behind me, footsteps as silent as a wolf in the woods. Burrow hung back, intelligent enough to understand that silence was needed, and that even the clacking of his nails against the wood of the floors would alert the inhabitants. Alistair, on the other hand, possessed the grace of a darkspawn ogre.

A stumble, trip, and curse, and we were found out. Morrigan pinched her eyes shut and shook her head as the hushed words became shouts, as alarm fired through the room.

I darted behind a wooden support beam and waited. Morrigan followed suit, both of us allowing Alistair to bait however many assailants there might be. A dark, armored figure passed by me and I slipped from the shadows, gently sliding my knife between the plates of his armor and silently, into his body. He fell without a sound, bleeding out from a severed artery.

"Leli!" Alistair shouted, shattering what little secrecy was left to us. "Behind you!"

I ducked under a massive blow that could have severed my head from my body, had it connected. I rolled away from my attacker, who did not follow, stopped by the icicles protruding from his throat. With a nod of thanks to Morrigan, I rose to my feet, scanning the area for more enemies.

I edged closer to the flickering light, clenching the hilts of my daggers. Another armored form stepped from the shadows, holding a crossbow before him. He angled his head slightly, letting the light illuminate it. It was the man who had turned the elves away…the man who spoke with a Fereldan accent.

"Stay where you are." he cautioned all of us. "Lest I loose this bolt. Lay down your weapons."

_Damn it! I have failed before this even truly began! _I knelt, slow, measured, setting my blades onto the ground. I rose, keeping my hands in sight, fingers spread.

"All of you!" he barked.

I heard a staff tossed to the ground with a disgusted sigh and Alistair's sword set down in the same manner as my own.

"Very good." he smiled. "You, red-hair, follow me. I am going to the door to call for the city guard. You others...Do. Not. Move."

I swallowed the lump in my throat as my hands began to tremble. _No. Not guards. Not lawmen…not dungeons…interrogations…no. Please, Maker, have mercy. Spare my life. _

The crossbow string whined as the man fell to the floor, a snarling mabari at his throat. The bolt whispered through my hair and sank into the wall behind me. I took a moment to compose myself as Alistair snatched up his sword and ran to the man, ending his life.

"Are you well, songstress?" Morrigan asked, though her disinterest was evident.

_Salem…I think…I think you are mistaken. As individuals we are strong, but together, without you…nothing. _

"Fine." I brushed past her, moving towards the table.

Alistair joined me as I began searching the drawers. He lifted a sheaf of parchment and scrutinized it. "I recognize the seal." he muttered. "It is the signet of house Mac Tir. But I cannot read what is written."

"I _knew_ you were incapable of understanding the written word." Morrigan snatched the papers from his hand, her voice ringing with triumph. "Perhaps Salem should be informed of this before she places a crown on your head. Oh," she glanced at the papers, grimacing, "I see."

"Ha." Alistair replied, vindicated.

"Andraste's ass." I quoted Salem as I extended my hand. "Let me look at them." Morrigan handed me the papers and I traced the lines of text. "It is written in Orlesian." I mumbled.

"Loghain Mac Tir hates Orlais with a passion that borders on fanaticism." Alistair mused as I continued reading. "Why in hell would his seal be on papers written in Orlesian?"

I folded the papers and tucked them into a pouch on my quiver. "Loghain may want nothing to do with Orlesian rule, but he will not shy away from receiving Orlesian gold. Those are slaving contracts, not only with Orlais, but with Antiva and Nevarra as well. Ferelden's elves are being sold into slavery to feed Loghain's coffers."

"We have all the proof we need." Morrigan smiled like a predatory cat.

Alistair nodded, though he still seemed to be made uncomfortable by agreeing with the witch.

_They speak true. We have been sent to gather incriminating information against Loghain, and we have it. However, there are still elves that are missing. These contracts have been written, though not yet fulfilled. I have to see this through until the end, as Salem would. I must save whomever I may, no matter the cost. _

"We cannot claim success just yet." I said. "We gave our word to the elves that we would find their missing. Our mission is fulfilled, but our promise is not."

"I understand." Alistair agreed with me for the first time since we entered the building.

Morrigan sighed and rolled her eyes. "Well, shall we move along? I should like to enjoy the amenities of Eamon's estate at _some_ juncture."

"The documents list instructions for delivery of the slaves." I replied, pleased with the lack of resistance. "If you will, follow me."

I took the lead, listening to the witch mutter behind my back. I did not care. All that mattered was my promise, first to Salem, and then to the elves. The papers I possessed would dig Loghain's grave, but no one would champion the elves once Loghain's illicit trade came to light.

_This must be resolved._ I steeled myself for the battles to come. _Now._


	31. Chapter 31

**Salem**

I rapped lightly on the door of Arl Eamon's study, savoring the fact that I now could stand and move without feeling as though my insides had been ripped apart. The lashes across my back still required the stitching that held my skin together, and my ribs still ached when I breathed, but it was no longer unendurable.

_As much as I despise healing magic, it is one of the Maker's greatest gifts to our world. Without it, I would have been bedridden for weeks, perhaps months. Now, that fate is averted…so that new burdens can return. _

"Enter." the arl called, soft.

I entered the room and closed the door behind me. "You wished to speak with me."

Eamon smiled, rising from his desk and crossing the room, clasping hands with me as though we were more than mere acquaintances. "It is good to see you up and about, Teyrna. Are you certain it is not too soon?"

I smiled, squeezing his hand before I relinquished it. "There is a senior enchanter who would say such things, but I cannot sit idly by while others wage war in my name."

Eamon chuckled, resuming his seat. I eased into another chair, watching as the man stroked his beard with a weathered hand. "It is in the name of Ferelden that we wage war."

"Because of a Blight, which requires wardens. Last I recall, I possessed that title." I smirked, trying to make light of a grave situation.

"You possess a far more important title in this Landsmeet." Eamon sat up and began rifling through the papers on his desk. "You speak for House Cousland, which is still the most respected noble family in the land."

"I have my doubts." I laced my fingers together and looked into the soot-stained blackness of the past. "Loghain has had a great deal of time to spread vicious rumors about why Highever was sacked. Many believe him. After all, he is a war hero and the queen's father…and self-appointed regent of the realm."

Eamon nodded, solemn. "However," he cleared his throat, "word has reached my ears that Queen Anora will be taking the warden's side in the Landsmeet. That is most fortuitous. There are those in the bannorn who would prefer the crown stay in the hands of Mac Tir, though not Loghain himself. We have gained quite the advantage with Anora's support."

"Indeed." _thank you, Leliana. I do not know what exactly transpired between you and the queen, but I heard from her lips that you are the reason that not all of Loghain's dogs are set against us. _

"What troubles you, Salem?" Eamon asked.

I ran my hand through my hair, wincing as I realized how terribly it needed washing. "I will not deny that I have my share of worries. You spoke of those who still favor Anora as queen. Will the nobles of Ferelden accept the throne being given to Maric's bastard son? And how might we even prove his parentage?"

"Teagan and I can vouch for that." Eamon assured me. "Maric's indiscretion occurred at Redcliffe. Loghain and your father were there as well. The former, I'm certain, will not be amenable to corroborating the tale."

"And the latter is dead." I sighed, feeling as though all the world were set against me. "What can we do, Eamon?" I asked the more experience politician. "What can we do to further cement Alistair's claim to the throne? There has to be _something_."

"Well, Cailan left no heir to the throne. Loghain, in his greed, has kept Anora from making another match that could produce a child, an advantage given to us."

A thought slipped into my mind, so wrong, so very, very wrong that I nearly dismissed it. However, Eamon saw my expression. His brows furrowed.

"What are you thinking of, Salem?"

"Have Alistair wed Anora." I answered, regretting the words as they left my lips.

_Yes, Salem. You, who have railed against destiny and the gods until you were blue in the face and shaking with fury, are thinking of ripping the choice for love from Alistair. He has been as unselfish as I in every decision…he even agreed to take the throne he did not desire. But to do this…to orchestrate a marriage between him and Anora…a woman he scarcely knows…how dare I even present the idea?_

Eamon mulled over the thought, tugging at his beard. "There is no way that such an alliance would weaken our position." he spoke at last. "And it would ally those who favor Mac Tir and those who favor Theirin. Our vote in the Landsmeet could double, given that both parties agree."

"No." I spoke, vehement. "No. I…I could not in good conscience persuade Alistair to take to wife a woman he does not even know…whose father effectively killed the man that Alistair held in the highest regard. Forget that I even voiced the notion."

"This bell cannot be un-rung, Salem." Eamon stated. "It was a sound strategy, and I know the boy would listen to reason, if given proper impetus and persuasion."

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, wincing as pain shot through my ribs. "Eamon…Alistair had very little to begin with. His true father never acknowledged him, you were forced to abandon him, and he loathed his life as a templar. The wardens were the sole family he had…and Duncan was a father. Wardens have no free will. Our destiny is set in stone, Alistair's moreso, due to his royal blood. I will not ask it of him, Eamon. I _will not_."

"Salem," Eamon spoke, almost condescending, "you are wise, for your years, but you must understand. In circumstances such as this, where time is of the utmost essence, where men must unite or be damned, _sacrifices __**must be **__made_."

I looked directly into the arl's eyes, feeling fire behind my own. "Do _not_ attempt to lecture me on the nature of sacrifice." I warned him. "You have been a most valuable ally, and I respect you because Alistair still holds you in high esteem, and because my father relied on your council, but I have made sacrifices that would _shatter_ a lesser man."

"I see." Eamon sighed. "You consider Alistair a lesser man?"

_No. Not that. Damn you, and your politicking, Eamon. _"Not in the least." I answered, attempting to curb the acid in my voice. "I believe he has the right to choose what little destiny he has left. If you feel you must, you may broach the subject with him when he returns. However, if you dare mention that I spoke of it…"

"Very well." Eamon agreed. "You may go, Salem. There is much preparation to be done before the Landsmeet."

"As you say." I rose from the chair, hissing and pressing my hand to my side as my ribs protested the sudden movement.

_ Damn me! I suppose I must forego the departure in high dudgeon. _

"Teyrna," Eamon spoke as I laid my hand against the door, "there is another option."

"What?" I asked, turning to face him once more.

"Cousland is, as I said, still a highly respected house. There would be more of the bannorn who would support our cause were there to be an alliance of marriage between the houses of Cousland and Theirin."

"Are you saying…" I could not fathom the thought.

"Yes." his iron eyes looked into mine, unafraid of the death they witnessed. "Give Ferelden hope. You and Alistair, joined by the Maker's hand. In matrimony."


	32. Chapter 32

**Leliana**

We slipped between two dilapidated buildings. Morrigan covered her nose to ward off the stench. Burrow whined, wishing for hands so that he could mimic the witch.

"I cannot imagine that Cailan never turned his eyes to these streets." Alistair spoke, wincing as he inhaled. "He…he was not a bad man."

"Just a thoughtless one." I said, examining the alley walls for the hidden door the instructions mentioned.

"Thoughtlessness is quite the worst trait for a monarch." Morrigan inserted her opinion. "Though ignorance could perhaps be worse. Thank the spirits that Alistair possesses both in great quantity."

I stopped my searching and rested my forehead against the building as my headache intensified. _Maker's breath, is there no respite from the incessant bickering? How many intolerant words can be exchanged in the space of a day?_

Not for the first time, I found myself longing for Salem. Her presence alone could calm, no matter the situation. _I need your strength, love. _

"Must your every word goad and demoralize?" I asked, feeling the edges of my patience fray.

Morrigan smiled, catty. "Perhaps my mood could be elevated by locating the door leading out of this cesspool."

"All is well, Leliana." Alistair grumbled, shoving past me and searching for the door. "I myself know that I would be a _terrible_ king. Setting me on the throne is Salem's gambit. She knows I want no part of it."

I joined him in his search, worried by the anger I saw in his normally smiling eyes. "Alistair," I place my hand on his shoulder, bringing his gaze to mine, "you are not thoughtless, or ignorant. You are one of the kindest, most noble men I have ever known. I know you want no part of Salem's gambit, as you call it, but it will be what is best for Ferelden."

He smiled. "I know you are trying to be kind, Leliana. I am all right, truly. I have accepted the fact that, if all goes as planned, I will take Cailan's place. But, in all earnest truth, I think it should be Salem who wears the crown." he kicked the dirt. "It was meant for Cousland first, after all."

_So Alistair, too, knows the story._ I mused, thinking on what he had said. _Salem is many things, but a life on the throne would…kill her. The constant compromise, the inability to change things with one's own hand…no. It is not her way. Her mind is suited to the work, but it would exsanguinate her soul. _

"You are far better suited for the monarchy than she." I told him the truth. Alistair had been nothing but pliant since I had joined the warden's party, but I had seen a strength in him, the same strength that Salem glimpsed…that she trusted in.

Alistair allowed himself a small smile. "I suppose you would know, being a bard and all."

"I have stood before kings and princes, Alistair. Many of them are wicked men who once had pure intent, but the craving for power destroyed them. It will not be so with you, I can sense it."

"You have more faith in me than I have in myself." the future king reached out, running his hand across the walls.

I heard a catch snap and examined the wall, smiling as I caught sight of a well-concealed latch. I withdrew my lockpicks and inserted them into the lock, all conversation forsaken. We had made a promise to the elves, and by all that I held sacred, I would fulfill it.

_If I can end the loss of life, I will. _I swore, remembering a dark night in the Frostback mountains when I had lost a family of three. The cries as they were torn apart by darkspawn still echoed in my ears. _I will not let another child watch their parents slaughtered. I will not endure another woman's cries as she cradles her dead child in her arms. _

The lock gave way and the door opened, revealing a hallway. Alistair entered first, the longer range of his weapon guaranteeing more safety in these close quarters. I followed behind and Morrigan brought up the rear, the light from her staff illuminating our dank, fetid surroundings.

"Where in hell are we?" she asked, for the first time showing interest in our mission.

My stomach clenched as her light showed huddled figures cowering against the wall. "A holding cell. Of sorts." I answered, voice tight. "The plague was a ruse."

"How do you know?" Alistair asked, surveying the hallway and rooms with horror.

"It is the only way this atrocity would go unnoticed and unquestioned by nobles with a functioning moral compass." I hypothesized. "I believe Loghain had the plague spread, targeting those who would make the most marketable slaves. The intelligent, the strong, and the beautiful. Most of these," I examined the shadowed figures, "are women. Probably virgins." I shuddered with disgust.

"This is barbarous." Morrigan startled me.

Rarely had I seen the witch give in to human emotion, but every now and again she displayed something…redeemable.

"Come," I bade her, stepping into one of the rooms, "I need your light."

The witch followed without argument or hesitation. Alistair stayed outside the door, standing guard should any unwanted visitors arrive. I knelt down before a young elven maiden. She tucked her head against her body and shied away from me. My heart softened. I understood her fear; had felt it myself after I had been saved from the dungeons of Val Royeax.

"It is all right." I spoke, keeping my voice low, gentle, as though I spoke to a frightened animal. "I am not here to harm you."

She peered out at me from behind her hair, defiance sparking in her large, terrified eyes. "Take me." she whispered, frantic. "Please, take me. Do not…do not take my baby, please, I will give you anything. _Anything_."

_They've taken __**children!?**_ Anger flared behind my eyes, intensifying the roar of my already pounding head. "I will not harm you." I said again. "Or your baby. My name is Leliana. I have spoken with Shianni, and I am here to help you."

"Sh…Shianni?" the young woman asked. "You…you were sent…by Shianni?"

_She seems to trust the name. Perhaps the fire-haired maiden possesses more of a reputation than I thought. _"Yes." I answered. "We're here to get you out."

"No." she clutched at my arm with a grimy hand. "No, you mustn't. We cannot leave. There are," she whispered, "wards on the door. Magical wards. They count who enters and exits, I've heard the guards speak of it."

_Damn it. They know we are here._

"We have to go." I spoke to Morrigan and Alistair. "She says that the door is warded; that they know who enters and exits. We have to follow this to the end. Stay here." I told the elf, rising and backing towards the door. "We will come back when it is safe to leave."

Her eyes glazed over, turning cold and bitter as hope drained away. "It is never safe, shemlen." she hissed. "It is never safe for us."


	33. Chapter 33

**Salem**

"Have. You. Lost. Your. Mind?" I turned away from the door, leaving it closed. I strode to Eamon's desk as fury boiled through my veins.

_After all I have given, all I have __**sacrificed**__, you would ask me to give up hope for __**my**__ future? How dare you, you overzealous, politicking, interfering __**bastard!?**_

"It is quite an ingenious scheme." Eamon laced his fingers together and set them against his lips. "Cousland and Thierin joined by marriage, add to that the possibility of a child…it would be the most secure future Ferelden could know."

_But at what cost, Eamon? At what personal cost?_

"My answer is no." I placed my hands on his desk, for emphasis and support. I felt as though I had been kicked in the gut by a dragon. My heart raced in my chest and my still-healing ribs throbbed.

Eamon looked up at me, his watery eyes glinting as he laid plans for war. "Spoken with all the impetuousness of the young. What reason do you have to refuse, Salem?"

_Leliana_, her name brought lightning to my eyes. _You would have me abandon the woman whose love and devotion __**carried me through hell?**__ No. A thousand, bleeding, furious **hells** of no. _

"My reasons are my own." I answered, refusing to hang my head, refusing to capitulate.

Eamon remained in his chair, unruffled. "You said that the wardens have no free will." he began to turn my words against me. "Nobles have even less. We are bound by blood to our country. Our duty is first to our people, though it should lead us to forsake our own hearts. Had Bryce and Eleanor survived, Salem, they would have arranged a politically valuable and relevant marriage for you."

"They would have done no such thing." I spat. "Nothing was gained by Fergus' union to Oriana. My father and mother married for love. My brother married for love, and I…"

"You were the youngest child." Eamon smiled, but it was grim, "The bartering chip of your family, as it were. You and Fergus would not have been given the same choice. If one should wed for love, then one must wed for duty."

"You know _nothing_ of the man my father was." I seethed, straining to contain my anger. "You know nothing of my family's ways."

"And you have delusions of their grandeur." Eamon argued back, a slight heat entering his tone. "But since you persist in the subject of your family, Salem, I ask that you _think of them_. You are the last member of House Cousland. I know the reason for your hesitation in this matter, but _consider this_. How much would it damage your country, how much would it pain your family to see their daughter…in a childless love?"

"Seal your lips, Eamon." I cautioned him. "I will not be guilted into considering this. I refuse to allow another to torment me with my family's ghosts. Do _not_ mention this again."

I turned on my heel, clenching my fists until my nails cut into my palm. _You knew Bryce Cousland during the war, Eamon; you did not know him after. But you must realize **one** thing. He **refused** the crown. He who most deserved the throne denied it. So that he might live in peace and raise his children to do the same. _

"You would be loved." Eamon spoke, soft, halting my footsteps once again.

"_What?_" I asked, not understanding.

"Alistair would love you." Eamon answered as I turned around. "I know the boy cares for you, Salem. It shines in his eyes when he speaks of you, gleams from his skin when he looks at you. If only you could have seen him the night he aided in your rescue from the dungeons. His heart was near broken."

_I know, Eamon. I know of Alistair's emotions in regards to me. I love him…as I would love a brother, nothing more. It will never be his voice I long for at first light. It will never be his touch I crave as evening falls. I. Will. __**Never**__. Love. Him._

"Would that not be worth the sacrifice?" Eamon entreated, clearly enamored of this strategy. "To be secure, to aid your land, beside one who loves you? Would that not be enough?"

"Think back to your previous words, Eamon." I spoke, heart in my throat. "You said you know my reasons for hesitancy. You also said that Alistair _aided_ in my rescue. _Aided_." I emphasized the word. "Do you know _who_ rescued me, Eamon?"

The arl frowned. "The Orlesian that travels with you. Some sort of minstrel, I believe."

_More. So much more than merely that. _"Leliana." I spoke her name as though it were my breath, my heart, the only force behind my existence. "A woman who was tortured for a fortnight in the dungeons of Val Royeaux. A woman who fought her every instinct and _**slaughtered**__ her own soul_ to save my life. Tell me, Eamon, would you turn your back on that for your _country_?"

"I would." he answered without hesitation.

I furrowed my brow and frowned, examining his countenance. He had set his mouth in a firm line, his jaw straight, angular, booking no arguments. But misgiving shone out from his eyes.

_You are a hypocrite, Arl Eamon. And you are the man who turned his back on an orphaned, ten year old boy because your youthful, beautiful wife felt it was a disgrace to keep him. You are not a man I would allow to dictate my fate, under any circumstances._

"Do me the courtesy," I said, loathing in my voice, "of speaking to me as an equal. Do not lie to me to encourage your own agenda, Eamon. What you want will _never_ be."

"So you will let House Cousland perish?" he asked. "You will let your legacy be ended too soon?"

I scoffed. "Cousland's brand of nobility is anachronistic at best. I have endured enough gazes askance to prove that. Perhaps it is best that it ends with me."

"Ferelden _needs_ you, Salem!" Eamon thundered. "As its warden and as its queen!"

"Damn you and your machinations to the abyss!" I roared. "You would play with our lives as though we were pawns on a chessboard! Alistair _deserves_ more respect from you! _**I**_ deserve to decide my own _**fucking**_ path! Is it not enough that I have _broken my body_ with this war, must I also _shred my soul_!?"

"Salem…"

"_**No!**_" I shouted, not caring who heard, or who was disturbed. My ribs throbbed with the force of my words, but I ignored the pain. "_You_ have no right to dictate my fate to me! _You owe me your __**life**_!"

"Your land needs you, Salem!" Eamon stressed.

"As its warden." I said, tone dark. "I will be nothing more."

"At the very least, consider the idea." Eamon pleaded as I wrenched the door open.

I stepped across the threshold, hands shaking. _I have given too much. I have not bled out, been blinded, and __**died**__ to see my future torn out of my hands. Forgive me, Ferelden. Forgive the last daughter of House Cousland. I do not love you enough to give you all that I am._

"No."


	34. Chapter 34

**Leliana**

We moved through the hallways, quickly, so that the elves caged here would not be endangered should the guards come. Alistair rammed through the door at the end of one hallway, leading out into a storeroom.

We paused, staring at the guards who rose from various states of rest and pulled their weapons. _Five on four,_ I assessed the situation. _Easy odds, considering my company. _

Burrow charged the man closest to us, bringing him to the ground. The other four began to coral us in hopes to back us against the wall, a position with no escape. Morrigan tapped her staff on the ground, emitting a wave of magic that bowled them over, disarming one.

Ever the bard, I took advantage of the situation, running for the man who scrabbled across the ground after his weapon. An acrid scent filled the air as another soldier met with a burst of Morrigan's lightning.

I stepped on the soldier's hand as he wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword. Bone crunched beneath my feet and I winced as the man screamed. I had never delighted in the causation of pain. I had never received a thrill as blood rushed over my hands, never rejoiced upon putting a blade through another's skin.

_My hands are skilled…Marjolaine told me that the very moment we met…before that, I had never raised a weapon in combat. I had never taken a life. My heart has still not reconciled to these talents. How strange it is, to take pride in my skill, and not joy. Salem, when this is ended, I no longer wish to wield a weapon. Even though it seems your destiny mandates that you never lay down your sword, I pray you understand. _

I knelt down and ended the man's suffering, withdrawing my hand before it became coated in his blood. _This is why I prefer the bow. It is…gentler…easier…less painfully intimate. _

I rose to my feet, shaking the thoughts from my mind. It would not do to dwell on my weaknesses, not now, when faced by men who did not care if they took life, who gloried in the scent of blood…men whose sole purpose was to trade in flesh and bone.

"Is everyone all right?" Alistair asked, examining the quick work we had made of our enemies.

"Fine." the witch answered, dabbing at the blood that stained her robes. "Though 'twould seem these are but the forerunners."

"Well if all in this enterprise are as skilled as these," I gestured to the quickly dispatched bodies, "then I believe we have nothing to fear."

"No." Alistair looked grim. "Loghain would not allow his operation to be managed by incompetents. Organizations…operations such as this require…lackeys to accomplish their work. I would know." his tone turned bitter. "It was much the same among the templars. New recruits were sent first against the blood mages in order to protect the senior warriors. The loss of a seasoned man was a devastating blow, while the loss of three fresh trainees was…acceptable."

"'Tis the nature of the beast." Morrigan shrugged her shoulders, offering no condolences.

"And the beast must be killed." I cleaned my dagger, making it free of blood, staining my clothes, wondering if I would ever again have the opportunity to wear something that had not been stained, not been torn by some weapon of war.

_I doubt I shall ever know that luxury. I miss Orlesian silk, fine, Antivan leather, music, dancing. Maker, I miss dancing. I wonder if those days are forever ended; if the only dance I shall ever again perform is the dance of death. _

"Leliana," a warm hand on my shoulder, "are you certain you're all right?"

I reached up and took Alistair's hand, needing to touch something good, something solid. "Simply fading into introspection at an inappropriate time." I laughed, ridiculing myself. "Forgive me."

He chuckled. "Well, then, you are in good company. But I would prefer to end this unless you wish Morrigan to turn us into toads, or bats, or some other…unsavory creatures."

The man looked ashamed as I removed my hand and started forward, towards large, ominous double doors. The sound of the sea could be heard behind them. I felt that whomever was spearheading Loghain's slave trade would be found here.

"Leliana, I'm…I'm sorry." he said, catching up to me. "I…I honestly do not think that we would have made past the Alienage without you here. When Eamon told me that we were to go…without Salem…I had my misgivings and I have not…not performed to her standards, as she would wish but…"

"Think nothing of it, Alistair." I told him, attempting to focus my thoughts on our nearly complete mission.

"But…" he pressed the matter and I turned to him.

"Salem meant for you to find your feet on this mission, Alistair." my voice held intensity, but I kept my volume low. "She has done nothing but push you towards finding your own strength, a strength she has seen, a strength _I_ have witnessed. The man who spoke to me in the Temple of Andraste, _that_ is the man who would be king. _That_ is the man who speaks with eloquence, persuades with passion, who struggles for what he desires. You are more capable than you perceive yourself, Alistair. And Salem cannot carry you forever."

The warden backed away, nodding his head in affirmation. "I understand." he whispered. "I know…I am…I am afraid, Leliana."

"Fear is natural." Morrigan sauntered up, her words decidedly uncharacteristic. "'Tis something we all experience. Cowardice, however, is when we allow fear to divert us from the truth of who we are."

Alistair bristled, turning to the witch. "As if you have ever felt the tiniest bit of fear." he challenged.

Morrigan arched her brow. "Though 'tis not in my nature to admit, in interest of aiding your fellow warden, I will tell you that I have, in fact, known fear. However, I have no interest in such things. So it is disregarded, in favor of whatever best holds my focus."

Alistair scoffed. "You make it sound so simple."

"And it is, for one such as I." Morrigan smiled. "But how many like me have you ever met?"

"Very, very…none." the warden admitted.

"'Tis as I thought." Morrigan pointed toward the door, "Now, meditate on our words when time is allotted. Until then, keep your focus here."

_Something that seems to be growing more and more difficult. It seems that Salem unifies our focus, as well. It seems that Wynne was right, those many nights ago when she took me aside, asking me of my intentions towards the warden. She said that if Salem lost interest in this mission, if something distracted her to the point of abandonment, that the Blight would never know an end. Because her support would fail…because she is the one who brought us all together. How true those words were._

"Are you ready?" Alistair looked from me to Morrigan. The both of us nodded.

The warden opened the door and we exited, finding ourselves on a balcony overlooking a shipping warehouse. Crates with cage bars lined the walls, filled with elves awaiting transport to their new owners. A group of armed men waited below. Their leader, a man in mage robes, glanced up at us, smiling with too-bright teeth.

"Welcome." he said. "We have been awaiting your arrival."


	35. Chapter 35

**Salem**

I fled from Eamon's office and re-entered my room, passing through it and onto a balcony. I savored the warmth of the sun on my skin, rejoiced in the sensation of the wind ruffling through my hair. I shivered, remembering what had transpired such a short time ago.

_The feel of chains around my wrist, metal biting into my skin, Cauthrien spewing Loghain's rhetoric against me, trying to cut truth out of my body and read it in my blood. Fists, bruises, my body destroying itself on the whims of another. I wonder if I will ever know sleep free of nightmares. How much of a burden will this be on Leliana? She left, in the Frostbacks…left because she could not endure watching as I consistently ravaged my body, throwing myself on swords for all the world. What will she do now…when she sees the scars that remain, and knows that there will be more upon me by the end of this?_

"Deep thoughts?" Wynne's musical voice greeted my ears.

I turned and leaned against the railing of the balcony, closing my eyes as the stone pressed against the stitches that were striped across my back.

"Troubled thoughts." I answered, allowing myself to be honest with the senior enchanter.

Wynne knew the stakes. She knew me and Leliana well; loved us as she loved her students or, I imagined, as she would love her daughters. Only a mother could be as enduring and patient as she had been with me. Only a mother could repair the damage done to my body with a stern hand and a kind word.

_The world will soon come to its end for me, be it through death or victory. I have no need to shield myself any longer. Not from those who have proven that they care. Not from those whom I have grown to love. _

"Are you feeling all right?" Wynne asked, making certain my physical state was sufficient to cope with the torrent of thoughts ravaging my mind.

"Well enough, in body." I replied, turning my gaze to the streets of Denerim.

I had always loathed those streets, the cloistered city air, the feeling of being swallowed alive by stone. I found my comfort in the wild, surrounded by nature, away from the clamor of the civilized world.

A smile quirked my lips. _Yet another difference between she and I. This is where Leliana finds herself most at home. How many differences between us will be irreconcilable once this Blight is ended? Or will reconciliation even be a worry? I have come so close to death…so many times…and in truth once crossed that line…but to do so with finality, with no hope of coming back…am I afraid? I do not know. _

"Then tell me what is troubling your mind." Wynne stood beside me on the balcony, placing her weathered hand on the railing and looking down into the marketplace.

"Myriad matters." I tried to sort out the chaos of my mind. "Foremost is the conversation I just had with the good arl."

"Oh?"

"He wishes to go before the Landsmeet and propose an alliance through marriage in order to gain support." I muttered darkly, keeping my eyes averted.

"Alistair and Anora?" Wynne questioned.

_No._ I bit the inside of my cheek. _That grievous idea belonged to me. _"Not Alistair and Anora." I answered, sighing. "But Alistair and…me."

Wynne pressed her lips together, considering the notion. I cringed as I waited for her words, waited for her to support Arl Eamon's claims in her rational frame of mind, to spell out for me the litany of reasons that I should foreswear my own desires and bend to the will of those older and wiser.

The healer shook her head. "The very notion is preposterous."

The breath I did not know I had been holding rushed out in a sigh of relief. "I said as much." I replied, meeting Wynne's canny blue eyes.

"I hope you stated it emphatically." Wynne replied. "Eamon means well, of this I am certain, and the alliance he proposes would affect the situation in your favor, but it is still unwise. The arl does not know you as we do."

"And what is it that you know?" I asked, intrigued to uncover her assessment of me.

Wynne smiled. "You remember what I said to you when your fledgling feelings for Leliana began to present themselves?"

I laughed at the memory of her stern, yet caring, condemnation. "Vividly."

The healer nodded. "I am not so old and set in my ways that I perceive myself to be accurate in all matters. I was wrong, Salem. I have witnessed and can still see that Leliana has not made you lose focus. If anything, you press forward in your mission with greater fervor because of the love you share. I know for a fact that had she not returned after leaving you in the Frostbacks, we would have found you dead in Howe's dungeons."

I nodded, meditating on the gravity of her words. _It is as my mother felt towards my father. She did not escape with me, even though she was given every opportunity. But, without him, she would have been lost, adrift, dead of soul if not of body. When Leliana left me, I felt my soul begin to die. _

"So very true." I worried my lip with my teeth, gazing to the skyline over the Alienage.

_Please be all right, dear heart. I hate that I am not there with you, guarding you as I should be, as I promised. Please come back to me. _

Wynne rested a careful hand on my shoulder. "You needn't worry, Salem." she comforted. "I am certain that Leliana will return, hale and hearty, as will the others. The Maker, it would seem, guides her fate."

"Even if her vision was untrue," I said, "she has been a godsend to me. You are right, Wynne. I would be dead a thousand times over had she not come with me. I cannot turn my back on such a love for…_political strategy_." I spat the last two words, unable to conquer my bitterness towards Eamon.

"Yet your brow still furrows."

I turned to the healer, setting my lips in a firm line. "If it seems we are to fail in the Landsmeet, if the bannorn retracts its support, or Anora turns traitor, I fear that Eamon will broach the idea without consulting me. He is dogged in his determination to preserve Ferelden, and while his loyalty is reassuring, the man himself is not. I have already played Alistair as a pawn in my game…I realize now his taking umbrage at being so used."

Wynne nodded her understanding of my fears. "I see." she replied. "And will you speak of this with Leliana when she returns?"

"Of course." I nodded, even though I dreaded approaching the subject. "To do anything else would be cruel."

Wynne chuckled. "Then you are a far braver woman than I." she met my eyes and her brows lowered.

The healer took a step forward and pressed the back of her hand to my forehead, frowning. "Salem, might I suggest that you take a rest for a moment. What with the recent barrage of emotion, you've gone quite pale, and it is still too soon to perform more healing spells. I know the bard would prefer to see you in a better state than she left you."

"Certainly." I answered, Wynne's words making me aware of the pain beginning to take hold of my body, the cold sweat breaking out on my skin.

The senior enchanter escorted me back to the room, guiding me towards the bed, not leaving until I lay fully at rest.

"Rest well, Salem." she smiled, exiting the room. "If you are sleeping when they arrive, be assured I will wake you immediately."

"Thank you, Wynne."

Though not tired enough to sleep, I closed my eyes, whispering a prayer for Leliana's safety.


	36. Chapter 36

**Leliana**

"Awaiting our arrival?" I asked, buying time to assess the room.

The stairway leading to our balcony was wide, a disadvantage for us. We were outnumbered at least three to one, not including the mage. Something seemed…off…about him. Morrigan sensed it as well; she was already etching symbols into the floor with her staff.

"Well of course." the mage spoke. "The moment you tripped the wards, we knew you would soon find your way here. Although it appears my men stationed inside did not fare as well as I would have hoped."

"They're dead." Morrigan stated, point-blank.

"Oh." the man stroked his moustaches. "I see. Regardless, we have matters to discuss."

"I do not think we do." Alistair walked to the edge of the balcony, squaring his shoulders. "You're running a slave trade. The last I recall, Ferelden was a free nation."

I smiled at the warden as I removed my bow and set the string. _I knew you could do this, Alistair. Speak for your country. Own your royal blood. _

The mage mocked us with laughter. "We both know that in times of unrest, laws are easily broken…by royal order, no less. Now, I know that you entered the warehouse in the Alienage. I also suspect that you recovered some papers not meant for your eyes. However, since I believe you to be Cousland sympathizers, I regret to inform you that they are practically useless."

"But…but they bear the seal of House Mac Tir." Alistair argued and my thoughts raced.

_What do they have that we do not? Surely, when presented before the bannorn, those documents will lay bare Loghain's treason. _

"A seal which could easily have been stolen. They are written in foreign language and unsigned. The seal means little nothing." the mage smiled, his eyes shining with sadistic glee. "Now, I am a mercenary, not bound by politics. All I want is for the gold from this sale to line my pockets. I have with me additional documents, signed by Loghain's own hand."

"What are you proposing?" Alistair asked. The muscles in his jaw jumped with tension.

"A trade." the mage reached into his robes and withdrew a rolled parchment. "You will receive hard evidence to back your chosen noble at the Landsmeet, and I will be free to send out this next shipment of slaves and reap the benefits. You are reasonable, I am certain. Take my offer, and walk away in peace, unharmed."

Alistair pursed his lips, considering the thought. I wanted to step forward, to speak, but to do that would endanger the future king's already precarious position.

_I know what Salem would do, the exact words she would say, the righteous anger that would flare out from her eyes. Maker, give Alistair the strength to do what must be done, even though it will endanger our lives. We made a promise, not for ourselves, but to those who have no power to take up their own defense. _

"I have another proposition." Alistair spoke at last, clenching the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white. "Set the elves free, give us the documents, and consider your lives a worthy enough trade."

_Yes!_ My heart rejoiced, even as my heart began to beat faster. Morrigan readied her staff and I withdrew an arrow from my quiver, preparing for the mage to refuse Alistair's offer.

The mage's laugh rang throughout the room. "You're quite brazen, whoever you are. I am not surprised that Loghain fears Cousland's supporters at the Landsmeet. However, my answer is no. You have one last chance to accept the original terms, or this will end in blood."

I nocked my arrow against the string, waiting for Alistair's word. This battle would not be easy, not if we had to fight our way down into the main room. Burrow yipped at my side, treating me as he would his master.

"Soon, boy." I promised, inhaling deeply to steady my nerves. "Very soon."

Alistair reached for his shield, bringing it to bear in front of him. "Blood it is, then." he stated, his body unmoving, his voice without hesitation.

Without waiting for the mage to give his orders, I raised my bow and fired an arrow directly at the mage's chest. Light flared from his staff and a shield arose around him. Alistair ran to the stairs as Morrigan coated them with ice, making the ascent more troublesome for our enemies.

I looked down at the mage, noticing my arrow embedded in his shield. _Unless that falls, my bow will be useless against him. _

I pulled another arrow and set it against the string, listening to the clanging of metal as Alistair flung away an enemy's blade with his shield and ran the man through. Morrigan fired a bolt of lightning at the mage's shield. It absorbed the blast, spreading out and growing brighter.

"Leliana, down!" Morrigan shouted as she wreathed herself in magic.

Before I could move, Burrow barreled into me, knocking me to the floor. A line of fire opened up across my hip and I placed my hand over it, feeling the warmth of blood.

_Shallow wound._ I assessed it, pushing the pain from my mind, rolling over and glancing at the wall behind me, where my own arrow rested. _Bastard mage flung it back at me!_

"Songstress!" Morrigan called. "Help Alistair! Leave the mage to me!"

I scrabbled to my feet, pulling another arrow from my quiver and nocking it. I pulled back on the string and fired into the group of men charging up the stairs. One fell, the body knocking back into another assailant, taking him to the floor. Burrow took advantage, pouncing on the fallen soldier and breaking his neck with a powerful bite. Alistair downed another attacker, bashing the corner of his shield against the man's unarmored head.

I glanced quickly at the mage, noting that his shield had vanished and that his magic was entangled against Morrigan's.

_He is our most dangerous opponent and should be finished as quickly as possible. _I set another arrow against the string and pulled back, firing a hastily aimed shot in his direction. The arrow buried in the mage's side, not a fatal wound, but definitely a distracting one.

"You bitch!" he shouted, covering his hand in the blood that soaked his robes. "You will suffer!"

"Blood magic!" Alistair cried, hastening his efforts to clear the soldiers from the stairs.

_We are out of our depth!_ my thoughts shrieked. A wave of magic pulsed through the room like a shockwave. My head cracked against the wall as I was thrown against it like a leaf in a strong wind. I lay on the floor, stunned, staring at the mage as horrible shades of red and black swirled around him.

A wolf's jaws latched down on my wrist, tugging at me. _Morrigan_…I got to my feet and staggered down the stairs.

_The fool. _I glanced at the mass of bodies on the staircase. _He used that attack against us and his own men. More than half of our enemies, vanquished by their own leader. _

The mage turned to face me as Burrow and the witch-wolf circled him. I pulled an arrow and set it against my bowstring, feeling bruised muscles in my shoulder protest as I drew back, taking careful aim, keeping the blood mage's eyes on me so that he did not see Alistair approaching from behind.

"Do not fire that arrow." he warned. "Or I will end your miserable life."

I remained silent as I watched Alistair raise his blade. He nodded and I loosed the arrow, satisfied when it buried itself in the man's heart as Alistair's sword pierced his gut. As the body fell, Morrigan latched her teeth around his throat and tore the man's head from his shoulders. I shuddered, even though I knew it was necessary to keep the man from returning as an abomination.

The cloying magic in the air dissipated and calm settled over the room. Morrigan transformed herself, easing out of her wolf form with a groan.

"Well." she tossed her loose raven hair over her shoulders. "'Twas invigorating, if short lived."

Unable to stop myself, I burst out in laughter. _This…entire…situation…is ridiculous. _My torn skin protested and I calmed myself, giggling again at Morrigan's incredulous expression.

Alistair reached inside the mage's blood-soaked robes, unrolling the parchment that the man kept there. He nodded, re-rolling it. "He spoke true." the warden announced. "This document is signed by Loghain, and written in the common tongue. We have our evidence."

A sigh of relief left all of us. _Thank the Maker. _

"Songstress, are you all right?" Morrigan asked.

"A flesh wound, nothing more." I assured her as I removed the string from my bow and set it in place above the quiver on my back. "Though I thank you for your concern."

"'Tis concern for myself that moves me." Morrigan drawled as she bound her hair back into its usual knot. "Salem's wrath is not something I wish to return to."

I shook my head and smiled, retrieving my lockpicks and walking to the cages that held the elves. I snapped the locks and opened the door, standing back.

They exited the cage, gazing at us warily. _They do not know to trust us._ I hung my head in shame. _All humans are the same to them…potential enemies. Maker, what have we done? _

An elf with silver hair emerged, shaking his head. He turned his eyes to me. "Are you…letting us go?" he asked.

"We are." I replied. "Please, I do not know if these were all the men involved in this hideous crime. Make haste."

"I am the headman of the Alienage." he bowed to me, a show of respect. "Creators bless you for your kindness. The elves will remember your generosity and repay you in what manner we can."

_It was not my kindness that saved you from slavery,_ my thoughts went to Salem. _It was hers. Her influence, her caring…her belief. And it should have been her sword that freed you._

"Go, and be safe." I bade him.

The elves exited the room, going up the stairs and exiting through the storehouse, bent on rescuing their families and friends. I turned to the others as Burrow came to stand at my injured side, offering me his support. I leaned on him, grateful.

"We should go." Alistair said. "Salem will be waiting."

_Salem_, we fell in step behind Alistair, as it should have been from the beginning, _you would be proud of him. He did well. _

Alistair glanced behind him, looking to me for reassurance. I nodded to him, smiling. _You did well..._I chuckled under my breath..._your highness._


	37. Chapter 37

**Salem**

I flinched as something wet attacked my fingers. I woke from a state of not-quite-sleep and stared down at Burrow, taking a moment to clear my head.

_Burrow…_I scratched his head absently, trying to remind myself why his presence was important. _They…they must have returned. _

I rose from the bed, too fast. I bent double, forcing myself to breathe as shockwaves of pain traveled up and down my back and across my ribs. Burrow whined, nudging my knee with his frigid nose. "I'm all right, boy." I gasped. He whined again, in disbelief.

I rose from the bed and walked to the door as Alistair entered, Leliana's arm slung across his shoulders. My bard was favoring her left leg; her brow was sheened with sweat, her skin far too pale for my liking. A crimson stain spread across her right side, my stomach turned at the sight of it and my heart beat faster.

I tapped my hand against Burrow's side. "Get Wynne." I ordered him. He dashed out of the room with a whuffing bark and I turned my flaming gaze to Alistair. "What. Happened." I fought to keep my voice even, but could not stop the tremors in my words.

Alistair's surprise at seeing me well enough to stand faded into fear. If I could stand, I could do more than threaten him. "We…we ran into a bit of trouble…more of an ambush…more of a trap."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to quell the fire scorching through my veins. _It was necessary…and if Loghain was behind whatever was happening in the Alienage, they were bound to face resistance. Maker, how does this happen? Why, when I am healed at last, is she injured? How does this equalize in your eyes, or is my suffering paramount in whatever demented plan you have for my life? Can we not share one day together without wounds? _

"Explain." I looked up, daring him to make excuses, daring him to test my patience.

_ Grant me a reason, _I taunted him with my eyes, _grant me __**one**__ reason and I will flay you alive. _

"Salem." Leliana spoke, and I felt as though someone had extinguished the lava in my veins. "Alistair, let me go."

"But…" he protested, glancing from my irate eyes into Leliana's pale face.

"Alistair, please." she entreated, and he gently disentangled her from his body. She turned to me, lightly resting weight on her right leg. "Salem, come here."

I obeyed, helpless to do anything else. I drew closer, keeping my distance, suddenly afraid. _What if she is angry with me…dear Maker, I sent her from my side and she was injured. How did I even dream of possessing such audacity? Leli, I'm sorry…I did not mean to place you in harm's way, to take wounds that I should have been there to endure. Damn me, I have gone too far; I have failed all of them. I should have…should have waited, should have forced Wynne to heal me, no matter the cost. I had no right…no right at all. I hate blood on her skin, I hate it. _

"Salem," Leliana looked into my eyes; caressed my face with her gentle hand. "Closer."

I took a tentative step forward and my bard embraced me, resting her head on my shoulder. My body protested the weight, the pressure, but I ignored it as calm overtook me. I laced my arms behind her back and kissed her hair, savoring the faint scent of Andraste's Grace that always clung to her.

"I have needed this," she whispered, and all anger within me fled, "so much."

Alistair cleared his throat and I glared daggers at him. "I should…uh…" he glanced around, "…inform Eamon. Right." he paused by the doorway, looking over his shoulder. "Good to see you up and about, Salem."

He left me alone with Leliana. She withdrew from our embrace and raked her eyes across me, relief crossing her features. "How are you?" she asked.

"On the mend." I replied, sighing in relief at the cessation of pain as she took more of her own weight.

"Maker's breath!" she exclaimed, hand flying to her lips. "Salem, forgive me! It was just such a relief to see…to see you…I didn't mean…I'm sorry…"

I laughed as her eloquence fled and drew her into another embrace, one not so frantic or tight. "I am fine." I assured her, pressing my lips against hers, to silence and to promise.

She returned the kiss with fervor and passion, both of us willing to endure whatever pain might come for the sheer bliss of touch, feeling, connection. There was still too much unknown between us, unsaid words, unvoiced emotion. I feared we would never receive the time to resolve the issues that hovered between us.

"Tell me what happened." I said as I aided her to the bed.

She hissed as she sat down and I knelt before her, lifting her shirt to inspect the damage. It looked as though a thin, sharp razor had scored the skin, slicing through instead of tearing away. A sword had not made this wound.

"The plague was a ruse." Leliana informed me, wincing every now and again as I further examined her injury. "Loghain was rounding up elves, the plague a pretense to disguise his slave trade."

"What?" I looked up, feeling rage flow over me once more. "Loghain was…" I could not countenance the thought. I rose and began pacing the room. "After all his pontification, his decrying of the indentured servitude that was Ferelden's relationship with Orlais, he _possessed the __**gall **_to sell citizens of our country as slaves?!"

"Salem, calm down." Leliana urged. "You are making me dizzy."

I stopped pacing, but crushed my hands into fists, wanting to feel my swords in my grip, to lash out against something, an enemy of flesh and blood, who would hurt, who could bleed, who would _pay_ for the suffering that I and those I loved had endured.

"Forgive me." I spoke between clenched teeth.

"To you, they are citizens." Leliana spoke, the truth softened not at all by the beauty of her voice. "To many others they are a lesser race, undeserving of representation, not given a voice, prohibited a means to defend themselves."

I spat, cursing Loghain. "What right have we to consider ourselves a free country when we spit in the face of all that we fought for? This will change, Leliana. I swear it, I swear on _my father's blood_ that no race in Ferelden will _ever_ be placed in chains."

"Salem." Leliana rose from the bed and limped to me, placing her hand on my shoulder. "Keep calm, my love."

She swayed on her feet and I reached out to steady her, unhappy with the chill of her skin. "Dear heart, are you certain you're all right?" I asked, once more disregarding anger in favor of concern.

_She brings out all that is good in me. Will I ever be able to repay the multitudinous debts that I owe her? Will I ever be given the time to show her the depth of my devotion, to speak in actions to make up for the words I sorely lack? _

"I was." her voice became breathy and her eyelids fluttered. "A moment ago."

I wrapped my arms about her as her skin whitened further and she fell forward in a faint, gritting my teeth as pain jolted through my nerves. _Heavens, hells and angels! What __**happened**__ in the Alienage? Where in __**hell**__ is Wynne!?_

"Leliana." I whispered, cradling her against my body, not strong enough to lift her, too broken to be of help. "Leliana, wake up. Please, dear heart, open your eyes. Please."

I pressed my lips to her forehead, helpless to do anything but wait for those who had the ability to do what I could not. Heal. Care for. Protect.

_What made you think such thoughts, Salem? _I asked myself. _What made you believe, for one instant, that you were worthy of being loved? This, too, shall be torn from you, as all good things thus far have been. You will kill her, Salem. That is the only way this can end. _


	38. Chapter 38

**Leliana**

"Explain to me," I heard Salem's distant voice, fierce with constrained rage, "_exactly what happened _in the Alienage."

"The plague was false, Salem." Alistair answered, his voice slurring…or perhaps it was simply my hearing that was to blame.

The room felt as though it was tilting around me so I kept my eyes closed in hopes that the sick feeling deep in my stomach would ease.

"I know that." Salem's words cut like a knife. "Leliana managed to tell me that the plague was a ruse to disguise an illegal slave trade, a crime for which Loghain _will_ answer, no matter the cost."

"O…of course. There…there was a room, where they were keeping the elves." Alistair launched into an explanation. "Leliana spoke to one of them. She…the elf…told us that they had warded the doors to know who entered and exited. They knew of our presence."

"So they ambushed you." Salem recounted her fellow warden's words from before.

"They were waiting, in the main shipping area." Alistair continued. "Several armed men and…and a mage, we assume him to be the one Loghain contracted to concoct the plague."

"To be?" my warden's words were ice. "To be, Alistair? Do not tell me he still lives, or by all that I hold dear, I _will_…"

"He's dead." Alistair broke in…afraid. "Maker's breath, Salem. We killed him."

"Not before he managed to send a wave of blood magic against us." Morrigan's acidic tones registered in my ears. "I managed to shift in time to avoid it and Alistair used his templar gifts, but I am afraid that Leliana was unable to defend herself."

Salem muttered a venom-laced string of curses under her breath and I winced, knowing that she was tearing her soul to shreds. _Please, my love, such thoughts are useless. What is done is finished. Can we not simply rejoice? Can you not just hold me in your arms, let me savor your skin against mine, treasure what few moments of rest we can wring from our grueling fate? _

_Salem, I love you. Can that not be enough, for once? Can that not be enough?_

"Salem," Morrigan spoke, a gentleness in her voice I did not often hear, "even had you been with us, there was nothing you could have done. Wardens are as weak against blood magic as all other creatures."

"Seal your lips, witch." Salem cautioned. "Wynne, how…how is she?"

"The cut on her hip is deep, but not threatening in the least, and she has not lost too much blood." the healer spoke, her voice closer to me than all the rest.

I cracked my eyes open, wincing as the light pierced them. A groan slipped through my lips and Salem pulled the shades closed, anticipating my needs. She stood as far away from the bed as possible, leaning against the wall as though she could fade into it and vanish from sight, from the guilt she needlessly burdened herself with.

"Leliana," Wynne drew my eyes to her, smiling in understanding, "how do you feel?"

"Dizzy." the room insisted on spinning in front of me, even though my conscious mind knew it was still. "Headache."

"Salem," Wynne directed, "pull the curtain back, enough so that the light reaches her eyes."

Light, nauseating, sickening light spilled across my eyes and I closed them. Wynne's weathered hand stroked through my hair, comforting me, soothing the ache between my temples. "Leliana, I need you to open your eyes. Just for a moment."

I opened them, letting the light in, swallowing down the bile that rose in my throat.

"Her pupils are uneven. Close the curtain." Wynne ordered and the room went mercifully dark once more. I sagged against the pillows, relieved.

"Well?" Salem asked.

Wynne ignored her and looked at me. "You have a concussion, my dear. Fortunately, it is nothing a simple spell and a night's rest will not fix. I have already sealed the cut across your hip. You should be fully recovered by morning."

Her hand took on the indicative blue glow of healing magic and she placed her fingertips to my temples. Soothing waves of relief poured through my body, alleviating the churning in my stomach and the pulsating pain behind my eyes.

"Thank you." I whispered, relaxing against the pillows, allowing the tension in my muscles to ease.

Wynne patted my hand, a singularly mothering gesture. "Get some rest, my dear. Salem, I am charging you with her care. Should she fall asleep, wake her every two candlemarks or so, just to be certain that no further damage is done. Any lingering effect the spell that struck her might have possessed was thankfully negated by the killing of the mage."

"As you say." Salem replied, brusque.

"The rest of you, out." Wynne commanded. "Wash your clothes, bathe yourselves, and get some rest. Healer's orders."

The three of them exited the room, leaving Salem and me…uncomfortably?...alone.

"Salem." I called for her, wanting her away from the wall and closer to me. _I need you. _

My warden lurched away from the wall, her shoulders bunched, arms crossed, hands clenched. "Is there anything you need?" she asked, her tone as cold as it had been towards Alistair.

"You." I reached out, extending my hand, praying that she would take it, that she would understand without words, without argument, without guilt.

"I am afraid I am not what is best for you at this moment." she still held herself away, moving closer with her body and farther from me with her heart. "Or any moment, perhaps."

"How soon you forget your own words." I laughed a little, unable to deny the pang in my chest at her distance.

"What did I say?" Salem's brow quirked upward.

"That if ever I said something so ridiculous again, you would be forced to spend the rest of your life disproving me."

"And what bearing has that on this instance?" Salem asked, her voice growing darker.

"Now you are the one saying ridiculous things." I smiled, trying to bring her closer to me. "And I would prefer to spend the rest of my life doing…more pleasant…things with you."

I watched, bleakly satisfied as her veneer of ice began to crack. She sat on the edge of the bed, her back to me, heaving a defeated sigh.

"I should not have asked you to go without me." Salem ran her hands through her hair. "I should have demanded that Wynne heal me, something…anything."

"Salem," I reached out, resting my hand on the top of her thigh, "how many times have we traveled this road?"

"Too many." her thoughts faded into the past, times I had bled, or been endangered. I could sense her heartbreak at every instance, feel the guilt that emanated from her being, the anger that wracked her soul.

"Then let it rest, my love." I begged her, wondering if she could hear the exhausted desperation in my words. "Accept the fact that we are at war, that your body is flesh and bone, not leather and steel. You are my lover, not my shield, and I am offended that you seem to wish only to act in that capacity."

She turned to me at last, gazing into my face with longing, haunted, beautiful broken eyes. "That…that is not all that I desire." she whispered. "Leli…when you collapsed, I could do nothing. I did not have the strength to move you, nor the skill to help you. I…I was terrified. All I could manage was to hold you…and pray."

I reached up, tracing the scar on her cheek with my thumb. "Perhaps, in moments, that is all I need from you."

"Not when your life could be in danger." she hissed, tears welling behind her eyes.

"Even then, my love." I promised. "Salem, take me at my word, I beg you. Please. I need _you_, simply you. Not as my warden, not as my shield, but as the woman I love. No more guilt, no more sorrow, no more burdens that _are not yours_."

The tears she had been fighting fell, staining my skin and hers. "I…I do not deserve you." she wept.

"Whatever good things life holds in store for you," I drew her face to mine, pressed my lips against hers, "you deserve them, and more."

"I'm afraid." she confessed, burying her head against my shoulder. "I am afraid, Leli. Everything I love has been stripped from me, and to think that I sent you into battle…that my drive to end this conflict might have taken you from me…it seems I would engineer my own destruction."

"I will not let you." I comforted her. "I swear it. And at the end of all things, I will hold you in my arms, I will kiss you, and we will bind each other's wounds. I will let no hand steal that future from me. Trust in that promise."

"As you say." she lay beside me, wrapped her arms around me like a fortress, and at last I understood the meaning of those words.

_I love you._


	39. Chapter 39

**Salem**

I sat in a chair, elbows braced against my knees, chin resting against my hands, watching Leliana sleep. She had drifted off shortly after the words we shared, and I was grateful. _She must have been exhausted, rescuing me, caring for me, only for me to send her into the fray once more. Please, Maker, give us a brief respite, to recover our strength, to cherish the gifts you have given us, even in the darkest of times. _

A soft knock sounded at the door.

"Enter." I called.

Alistair came into the room, stroking his hand through his sopping wet hair. He was dressed in clothes that fit him too loosely, borrowed from Eamon, no doubt. Most of what we wore had been reduced to tatters by battles and the toils of hard journeying.

_I want to cover you in silks_, I smiled at Leliana's face, made innocent and unworried by slumber. _To provide you with all the finery that you so delight in, to remind you that you are so much more to me than a sword in battle. You are __**everything**__ to me, Leliana. Everything._

"How is she?" Alistair asked, brows furrowing with concern.

"Resting, thankfully." I leaned back in the chair, wincing as my back protested. "Forgive me for my earlier harshness, Alistair. I let my concern override my good judgment and I am afraid that I might have spoken in haste."

"And is this the moment where you repent at leisure?" he smiled.

"I am Salem Cousland, de facto warden commander of Ferelden." I mocked myself. "I repent for nothing."

Alistair chuckled, then sobered. "In truth, Salem, I came to apologize to you. Morrigan and I…well…"

"I understand." I lifted a hand to silence further awkward explanation. "The two of you are akin to stone on flint. When struck together, there are bound to be flames."

"We would not have made it through without Leliana." Alistair admitted. "Your absence from our party was…keenly felt, and I wished to apologize for my failure to take the reins of leadership."

_Alistair…Alistair…what in the Maker's name am I going to do with you? You did not fail. The mission was a success, and there are many reunited with their families who might have been sold into slavery without you and your actions. I am teaching myself what you must also learn; we cannot save everyone. We cannot always act as we feel we should. _

"You succeeded where many others might have failed." I comforted him. "My only regret in all of this is that we did not know of Loghain's villainous treachery sooner."

"We have proof." Alistair relented, letting me turn our conversation to the task at hand, not the mistakes that might have been made, the moments that might have been regretted. "Signed in ink, by Loghain's hand. Whatever platform he intends to take against you in the Landsmeet will not stand."

I sighed. "Even so, Eamon does not think it is enough. Many nobles will be willing to overlook Loghain's transgressions against the elves in favor of their need for security. I am trying to rebuild a shattered kingdom by unseating the man who aided in giving us our freedom."

"Your father and mine fought alongside him." Alistair said, surprising me. He did not often claim Maric as his father, even when speaking to those he trusted with the knowledge of his parentage.

My heart warmed. _He is acclimating to his fate. Perhaps, if anticipated, accepted, this will not be such a heavy burden when he at last must lift it. _

"But they are not alive to stand with us." I replied, a note of sorrow in my voice. "If they were here, none of this would have happened."

"But then we would never have known each other." Alistair made a weak attempt at humor. "You would be a noble lady, trapped in dresses and court functions, and I would be a templar…restricting mage's freedom and addicted to lyrium."

I pursed my lips and nodded. "Bleak fates indeed. So much the better then, that we find our lifetime diminished and our blood joined to that of abominations."

Alistair pressed his fist against his mouth, laughing, controlling the volume for the sake of our sleeping companion. "Perhaps destiny intended for us to have limited joy." Alistair acknowledged. "But it will be difficult, even with all the evidence we have gathered, even with Anora's support, to unseat Loghain. Your merry band of followers does not exactly instill confidence. After all, what sort of noble would ally with elves, dwarves, qunari, apostates, and Orlesians?"

"Not the noble worthy of trust, that is for certain." I massaged my temples, wondering if my headache would ever cease. It had been such a long time since I had woken without the familiar dull pain behind my eyes.

"Were you and Eamon able to discuss any method of approach?" Alistair asked, drawing another chair alongside mine.

"Our discourse quickly disintegrated into a shouting match." I muttered, wishing I had sent him away after his apology and confirmation of proof.

"What did he say?" my fellow warden inquired.

_How quick you are to trust me, _I thought, smiling at the man who had become my brother. _Eamon raised you…for a time. Surely you would owe the man who gave you your childhood a great deal more than the woman you have known for less than a year. But…such are the times we live in. _

"It was my fault." I sighed, despising myself as I revealed the entire truth. "For the briefest of moments, I had thought of a match between you and Anora…"

"I know." Alistair smiled and my face went slack in shock. "I must admit, I considered the thought."

"You did?"

"Of course. You are not the only person of noble blood in this venture." Alistair blushed and looked away. "While you were…incarcerated…I spent some time thinking of what _I_ could do to secure our position should…should the worst happen. I have no standing with any nobles, save you or Eamon, but I am Maric's son…and marriage to Anora, well… it was the only solution I could conceive."

"I am…relieved." I admitted, laughing under my breath. "Alas, the tale is not finished. Eamon snatched the notion and absconded with it. He proposed yet another match between Ferelden's favored houses."

Alistair's jaw dropped and he stared at me for a moment, in complete silence. "You…you and I? Wedded? Seated on the throne?"

I nodded. "And thus commenced the shouting match."

Alistair averted his gaze, looking at Leliana. "You refused the strongest advantage you might have possessed." he said. "For her."

"For love." I answered. "We are fighting for hope, Alistair, for freedom. You and I…we have given so much, I did not wish to strip our last choice…from either of us. Therefore, my hand shall remain un-fasted, and we will accept Anora's support. Nothing more. You deserve the same gift I was given…to choose whom you will love."

"That choice was made for me quite some time ago." he looked at me and I saw the light behind his eyes. I knew it for what it was and my heart grieved for him.

_It could never be, my brother. It could never be._

"Alistair…"

"No." he forestalled my words with a raised hand. "Let us speak no more of this. Thank you, Salem, for placing our hearts before our duties in this instance. I am…grateful."

_And in my selfishness I feel such guilt. You do not know, Alistair. You do not know how these thoughts have tormented me since Eamon brought them into existence. Forgive me, please…forgive me. _

"I am sorry, Alistair." I whispered, apologizing for so much more than had been discussed.

"I would have loved you, Salem." he smiled, and my heart hurt as I saw the sheen of tears in his warm eyes. "We could have been…content."

"But not happy." I spoke the bitter truth.

"No." he agreed. "Not happy. Take care of Leliana, Salem."

"I shall." _with all that is within me, as long as I have breath. _

He stole from the room, quiet for once, as though he wished to leave no reminder that he had been there, that we had spoken.

"Salem." Leliana's voice drove the darkness from my mind.

With sore, stilted movements I knelt beside the bed, worried. "Did…did you hear…"

"Enough." her hand reached from the covers and stroked my cheek.

"Leliana, I…"

"No, my love." her eyes were haunted, but I did not know why. "I think…I think…it could be…what is best."


	40. Chapter 40

**Leliana**

Salem fell back, mouth open in shock, eyes swimming with panic and…pain. "Please," her voice trembled and my heart fluttered, "please tell me that you are speaking under the influence of your injuries."

I sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, finding, to my satisfaction, that the room remained where it was. "I am not." I could not meet her eyes, not when the death in them gleamed with such ferocity, such sorrow.

_I heard you speaking, Salem. I could sense the regret in you, regret that you did not give yourself over entirely for your country. If this…if leaving me…if it could help you, what sort of love would I show if I did not give you the same liberties that you allowed me? The freedom to sever all ties…walk away…you need not forsake love for love, Salem. I know you fight for the world. I know you carry every soul in your heart, on your shoulders. I will not be your weakness. _

"Leliana, you cannot be serious." Salem entreated, still in shock, unwilling to move. "How could you possibly think that this is for the best?"

"It could save Ferelden." I tried to convince her, even though I screamed within. I did not possess Salem's innate nobility. To speak this way, to say these words…it was against my very nature. _Always, I have been selfish with my heart, keeping it close, giving it to so very few, eliminating the chance that pain might be inflicted, on myself and others. _

"Leli…" Salem began.

"No." I interrupted. If she began to speak, I would lose all resolve. "Your first allegiance is to the wardens, the second to Ferelden. How much better you could serve both, if you followed through with Eamon's plans?"

Salem got to her knees and rested her hands on my legs, gazing into my eyes. "Because I would prefer to keep my scars on my _body_." she stressed. "I've torn my heart in two so many times that at times I believe it non-existent. Why, Leliana, why do you press this?"

"You…" my voice caught as tears threatened to choke me. _You must be strong. Allow her to choose. Alleviate her guilt. Give her this opportunity…out of love. _"…you heard Alistair. You would be loved, Salem. You would be cared for, and in a position to keep the peace, protect this land that you love, fight for it, as your father wished to do."

"I couldn't love him." she gazed at me, her eyes turning to blue steel. "I do not want to be forced to. Maker's blood, Leliana, have you gone _insane_!?"

"Salem," I stroked my hand through her hair. "I know how much you love Ferelden. I understand how important your country is to you. I…I would not wish to be the sole thing standing between you and the lives of thousands that will made better by you wearing the crown. Think, Salem, please. You…" _say it, Leliana. For once, wear her courage as though it was your own. Love her as fiercely as she loves you. Break your own heart._ "…you let me go. Once. And I learned why. So that I could chart my own path. So that I might discover my true desires. What…what manner of person would I be if I did not give you that same freedom?"

"No." Salem buried her face in my lap, clinging to me as her body trembled with silent sobs. "No, please, whatever gods exist, please…_deafen me!_"

The anguish in her cry sent knives through my soul. My hands wanted to reach out, to lift her face to mine, to mend her wounds with a kiss. But I would not be a chain, a tether…yet another burden. I kept my hands away, though I knotted the sheets between my fingers, desperate for something to cling to, something that was not Salem.

_But I do not have such a thing. I discovered as much when I left her in the Frostback Mountains. She is my heart, my soul…my entire world. The true cruelty is that…her world…is so much larger than I._

"Salem," tears spilled over my eyes and I could not restrain them, not even for her sake. "Salem, I…"

"Do you," she interrupted in a heart-rending, fractured whisper, "do you not love me any longer, Leliana?" She lifted her swollen, tear-soaked eyes to mine. "I…I can understand if that is your reasoning, truly, I can. Just tell me, dear heart, I beg you."

I bit my lip, knowing that I could lie, that I could force a crown onto her temples, shove her into another's arms, and do what was best for Ferelden, for all of Thedas. I could sit there as she walked away from me…and enter a life that, as I had previously acknowledged, would kill her.

_I could tell you, Salem. I could open my lips and swear that I had lost affection for you, that all my words of late have been pretense, but to do that would slay me. I suppose, at the end of things, I am not as strong as I desire to be. I will not lie, Salem, but I also require your assurance that you do this for yourself, not for me. _

"I will never cease loving you." I said. "But I will not be the sole reason that you deny your chance to bring this land to peace. If your love for me is all that is driving you, then I will set you free."

A smile lit Salem's face, reaching her eyes. "My beautiful fool." she reached out and stroked my tears away. I shivered at the feel of her skin on mine. "I have been in chains since the day I first took breath. My blood belonged to Ferelden, as it now belongs to the wardens. If you were to free me, I would find myself back in those same chains, with no hope of escape. You are my freedom, Leliana, and I desire that, I _selfishly_ desire that above all else. Believe me, heart's dearest, for the sake of my sanity, _believe_ me."

I slid off of the bed and tumbled into her arms, delirious with spent fear and gratitude. I pressed my body against hers and captured her lips with my own. "Promise me," I spoke, breathy, "promise me that you will not regret this."

"I swear it." she cradled me against her, pressing her lips to my hair. "I swear it."

"I love you, Salem Cousland." I whispered. "I love you with all that I am, so much so I fear it is a sin."

"Then we sin together." she lifted my chin and grazed my lips with a kiss, heartbreaking in its gentleness. "Marry me, Leliana."

I drew away, shocked. Never before had we spoken of such a bond, too afraid that we would be ripped apart at any moment, that one would bid the other farewell too soon. "What?"

"Promise yourself to me, as I wish to be promised to you." Salem entreated, the strangest smile on her lips, the death nearly erased from her eyes. She drew off her signet ring, the only adornment she wore, and held it before my eyes. "Be my wife."

_Maker above, I haven't…I didn't…I have never given thought to our future beyond the Archdemon, save to idly dream. This…this is permanence, a promise…hope. Hope that I wish, so desperately, to cling to. Forever._

"As you say." I smiled, feeling the cool of her ring slide across my finger.

Her lips were moments from mine when the door burst open, a panting, wild-eyed Alistair greeting us. "Salem," he gasped, "Loghain…pre-empted…called the Landsmeet…early. We have to get to Fort Drakon…soon."

Joy forgotten, future put on hold, Salem rose, steel in her eyes, ice in her veins. "Gather the others." she ordered. Alistair fled from the room.

I rose, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. "Salem…"

"Are you well enough to join us?" she asked, slipping into the persona of the Warden Commander, the would-be savior of Ferelden.

_This will be a part of our lives…forever. I have accepted it thus far. This ring, this new promise, does not mean that anything will change. It is simply an agreement to stand with each other…no matter what may come._

"I would not miss it." I walked to my warden, my lover, my strength. "Now, let me help you with your armor."


	41. Chapter 41

**Salem**

The doors of Fort Drakon groaned as they opened, the men who guarded them gathered against the wall, Morrigan's magic swirling around them in a wordless threat. Loghain had given orders that any that came under the banner of Arl Eamon were to be stopped at the gates, forbidden entry, violence used if necessary.

_Well,_ I smirked, _I can tell their liege lord that the attempt was made. However, nothing will keep me from this moment, not even trickery. Not even circumventing the laws of the Landsmeet. I will __**not**__ let him decimate Ferelden on the eve of a Blight. _

"Thank you," I smiled at the soldiers, "for understanding my position. Loghain will be informed of your complicit loyalty. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a Landsmeet to disrupt."

My companions and I moved through the doors, towards the main hall. I could hear Loghain's noxious voice already, booming through another set of barred doors.

_Decrying the wardens and Cousland…spinning lies when we are not present to defend ourselves. This is madness, Loghain. You have lost your mind to conspiratorial fear. You see enemies where there are none, and blaspheme those who would aid you in protecting Ferelden from the __**true**__ threat._

I strode forward, ready to put an end to this. All of it. Clear Cousland's name, set a Theirin on the throne, and end this damn Blight. Then, and only then could I have my future. I smiled, looking at the determined set of Leliana's countenance, the worry in her gaze visible to me alone.

_Do not fret, dear heart. I know you are worried that this will come to blows. I know I am still in no condition to wield a sword. There was no time to complete my healing…for that, I apologize. I had no control over this. Perhaps, I never did. _

"Come no further, Warden Cousland." a voice iced through my veins, taking me back into Howe's dungeons, opening wounds that Wynne's magic had closed.

Cauthrien stood before me, her massive blade in her hand. She favored her left side, using the weight of the blade to compensate for her weakness. Leliana had told me of Cauthrien's words, her insistence that I be rescued—that Leliana had shoved a knife between her ribs and left her there to bleed. Still, even though she was wounded, and possibly as incapable of fighting as I…I could not rein in my emotions.

Hatred. Loathing. Disgust. Fear.

"Are you still Loghain's loyal lapdog, Cauthrien?" I asked. "Still dashing about at his beck and call, doing his bidding, torturing innocents?"

Her face blanched and she had the decency to look…almost ashamed. But her voice hardened, her features evened, and she frowned. "I am under orders from the Regent of Ferelden. You are not to be allowed past this point. In truth, I am shocked that you are alive."

"I could very well say the same." I smiled. "Leliana is quite deadly, Ser Cauthrien. I am surprised that you have the strength to stand. After your failure you keep me incarcerated, I am certain Loghain spared you the gentle touches of his healers."

Cauthrien tore her eyes away from mine, giving me all the truth I needed. She had been left to care for herself as punishment for her failures. And Loghain, having sent her to stop me, was sending her to her death, casting her away, even after she had given him her life. Fire burned in my heart, erasing my own grudge against this woman.

"I see." I stepped forward, noticing the hitch in Leliana's breath as I did so. "There is no need for this, Cauthrien. You let me be rescued. You doubted Loghain's words, his fabricated truths against my family and my calling. You do not deserve this."

"Do not come one step closer, Cousland." she warned, readying her blade, her brows pinching together as she winced.

"Or what?" I asked, coming closer, my neck directly within reach of her blade, should she choose to strike. "Think, Cauthrien, _please_. I am offering to let you go, to seek out your own life. I offer you this after you suspended me from chains, had me beaten, had me tortured, and threatened to tear away everything I hold dear. What did Loghain do when you 'failed' him? He left you to bleed on the floor of his dungeon, to drag yourself out of there and bind your own wounds as best you could."

"You _dare…_"

I raised my hand, silencing her. "I am not yet finished. Now, after your grievous failure, Loghain sends you to stop me yet again, by force if necessary. He sends you against the _one_ person who has ever defeated you in combat."

I smiled, watching shock spread over her face. "You…that was…"

"Years ago." I nodded, remembering the stilted joy of my past. "You were undefeated; Loghain already grooming you for his personal guard. Tournaments were held in honor of Cailan and Anora's marriage and Loghain entered you, knowing you would bring glory to the house of Mac Tir. The last battle, when you lost, you ceded to the hermit noble's daughter, the scandal of Highever. Me."

Leliana glanced from Cauthrien to me, unaware of this past connection, a story I had not revealed. Her hand fidgeted, twisting my signet ring around her finger.

_Keep calm, dear heart. I believe this is a battle I can win. Without blades._

"He has sent you to your death." I finished, hoping, praying that the skilled knight would forego her loyalty and pride in the face of truth.

Cauthrien's knuckles whitened as she gripped the hilt of her sword. "As you said, that transpired years ago. You could not emerge victorious now, Salem. I broke your body with these hands, and I can _still_ wield this blade."

"You should not have to." I replied, stepping in yet closer. "Not against me. Cauthrien, if the warden's 'schemes' were existent, as Loghain claims, your torture would have broken me. I am not so strong a woman as to conceal the truth when faced with that level of torment. Those assembled can tell you, I fight only in defense of the truth. Believe that, as you began to in Howe's dungeons."

"You don't understand, Cousland." Cauthrien spat. "If I fail in this, I forfeit my life. Loghain made that quite evident when tasking me with stopping Arl Eamon."

"If you raise that sword against me, your life will already be forfeit." I warned her. "The one way you get out of this alive is to _let me through those doors_."

"And how do you know I desire to live, after my grievous failure?" Cauthrien baited me.

"You are human, are you not?" I smiled. "Cease working for a man who uses lives as if they are inconsequential."

The knight cocked her head, considering my request. "Convince me that you are the better choice, warden. Convince me _well_."

"I let you take me." I answered, shrugging my shoulders. "I could have fought; could have won, but I let you _chain_ me and _torture_ me. To protect those I was with. Loghain shoves you forward into battle in his name, just as he quit the field in selfish disgust after the beacon was lit. You were there. You remember."

"I do." she answered, shame crossing her features for the first time. "I thought it quite wrong at first, until Loghain convinced me…convinced us all…that all of it was the fault of the wardens. He is a _legend_, Cousland. You must understand…"

"I," _how can I believe these words_, "I harbor you no ill will, Cauthrien. Loghain has caught too many in his traps. You were one I did not wish to see fall."

She lifted her sword with labored movements, placing it into its sheath. "Go through." she whispered, broken. "But if you emerge any less than victorious, I will tirelessly devote myself to ending your life."

"Live well, Ser Cauthrien." I told her as she turned away. "You are forgiven."

Her eyes flashed to mine, filled with wrath. "I apologized for _nothing_." she hissed.

"I know." I told her. "The words were not for you. You are forgiven, regardless."

Cauthrien huffed and stalked away, to sort out her own demons and discover her own truths. Leliana heaved a sigh of relief, her hand slipping out and squeezing mine.

_There is still much to do. Beginning with what lies beyond those doors. _

I glanced at Leliana and smiled, then strode forward and entered the main hall, glancing at the nobles assembled.

_Thus, it begins. _


	42. Chapter 42

**Leliana**

We entered the main hall of Fort Drakon, listening to the rhetoric of a madman. Loghain stood on the floor, between two balconies, gesturing wildly and spewing acid.

"…and where is this warden, this self-proclaimed _hero_ of Ferelden when the Landsmeet is called? Nowhere to be seen! Afraid to face charges of treason, afraid to reckon with the truth! That the wardens abandoned Ferelden at Ishal! That they doomed our young king to death! That they bring the darkspawn upon us as a plague! I tell you the truth, nobles of Ferelden, men and women whom I have fought alongside, when the wardens are ousted from this country, the darkspawn _will follow them!_ There _is_ no Blight!"

Salem leaned against a support pillar, an odd smile on her lips. She watched Loghain intently, as a bard would, hearing his words and planning her strategy. The rest of us slipped beneath the balcony, in the shadows. Alistair hid in the crowd, fearing this moment more than he had feared anything in his life.

_I cannot believe that she sent Cauthrien on her way._ I thought, replaying the events that had transpired before we entered this room. _And that she had the strength to forgive her torturer…even I, who served the Maker, could not hope to achieve that level of light. She truly is…unbelievable. _I turned the ring on my finger, admiring the way the metal caught the light, how it felt secure, snug…_right_…against my skin. _And she is mine. _

"The warden would tell you that she is from Ferelden's noble House Cousland." Loghain continued, oblivious to our entrance. "She would claim ownership of Highever. But I tell you, all of the Couslands were wiped out when their treachery was discovered. This warden is nothing more than a fear-mongering deceiver! A liar! One who would usurp remembered nobility and adulterate it for her own ends!"

"Is that so?" Salem asked, pushing off of the pillar and joining Loghain in the center of the room. She looked at the assembled bannorn. "Nobles of Ferelden," she spoke, her voice smooth, calm, possessing none of Loghain's heat, "I come to you as one of your own blood and yes, also as a Grey Warden. I stand before a man who claims that I will not defend myself to you; that I fear the truth. I tell you this. If Loghain's words were truth, then I would be afraid; I would be in hiding. However, I stand here, come before you to say that no greater treachery has been committed than that of House Mac Tir against the throne of Ferelden."

"Lies and heresy!" Loghain fumed.

Salem laughed, and I wondered at her strategy. Perhaps to enrage the man and loosen his tongue…perhaps to simply laugh. "You imprisoned your own daughter and named yourself Queen's Regent, Loghain. Why? The king is dead. Your daughter sits the throne. What possible reason can you conjure for that madness?"

A ripple of words rose and fell amongst the assembled nobles. Alistair went pale.

_If ever there was a moment for Anora to emerge, this would be the time_, I thought, scanning the crowd for the queen. She had not been found at the estate before our departure. Salem had shrugged her shoulders and claimed that it was in the Maker's hands. However, if the queen refused to make good on her word, I would be forced to make good on mine. I had never left a promise unfulfilled. A bard's very existence was treason; committing this one would be simply done, and accomplished without guilt.

"My daughter is young yet." Loghain claimed. "I did it in her best interests, for her protection. You and your wardens have already _slaughtered_ our king! How was I to know that my beloved daughter was not the next target of your ill intent?"

"I am Salem Cousland, daughter of Bryce Cousland, Teyrn of Highever." she spoke, still calm, still in control of her emotions. "I have never raised a hand against Ferelden's nobles, a vow we all have sworn. I cannot say the same for you, Loghain. You had me held against my will and tortured. Assembled nobles of the bannorn…"

"Look at her!" Loghain interrupted, fierce. "Bryce Cousland, Maker rest his traitorous heart, was never as faithful to Ferelden as the rest of us! How many of you know his children by their faces? How are we even to know that you are his daughter, warden?" Loghain paced in a feral circle around Salem. "Where is your proof? Have any of you," he spread his hands out to the nobles, "_seen_ her at court functions? How are we to know that the wardens did not take one of their own, re-christen her as the daughter of an extinct House, and use her for their _own dastardly ends!?_"

Again the stir of conversations; too many heads nodded in agreement with Loghain's words. _Salem told me as much_, I recalled_, that her father was called the hermit noble in jest, that he only ever appeared at court when absolute __**need**__ of him was had. He wanted his children to grow with his wisdom, not surrounded by intrigue and corrupted morals. I fear his good intentions have brought his daughter no kindness._

"You ask for proof of my identity?" Salem queried. More nodding of heads and ripples of doubts and speculations. "Very well. Please, nobles, indulge me. A show of hands…how many of you served with my father and Teyrn Loghain in the war against Orlais?"

_What is she doing?_ I wondered. Her only proof of her claims was the ring around my finger, and she would not reveal that I wore it…not today…not in this place. _Salem…how…_

Several men and women raised their hands and Salem nodded. "First," she began, "I thank you for the freedoms that this country possesses, because of your sacrifices. Second, Teryn Loghain, I respectfully request the aid of your personal healer."

Loghain's black eyes slanted, wondering at Salem's game. "Why?"

"You have said it yourself, have you not?" Salem asked him, feigning innocence. "That one would know a true Cousland by their inability to bear a healer's touch? I am afraid I am not quite recovered from my less than pleasant stay in your dungeon. Now, I have a mage accompanying me who would be more than willing to assist in this proof of my heritage, but, lest you doubt her as well, I would prefer this be done by one whom _you_ trust."

"This is preposterous!" Loghain spewed. "What do you hope to gain by this?"

"Let the girl do as she says." a voice called from above. "I stood with Bryce in the Battle for the Brecilian Forest. I helped him to the healers after he took a sword to the leg. I saw him healed, and it was no natural event. But first, warden, the bannorn demands evidence of your supposed injuries."

"Very well." Salem assented.

Alistair and Wynne moved from the crowd and assisted Salem in the removal of her armor. After the plates were set aside, Salem stripped off her shirt, revealing the mottling of deep blue bruising across her body, the horrendous lashes across her back, held together by Wynne's expert stitching.

Gasps echoed from the room and the more genteel ladies were forced to turn their heads, in preservation of decency. Salem rotated, slow, giving every eye the chance to see the wreck of her body.

"Is this acceptable?" she asked.

"Loghain, as the bannorn demands, bring forth your healer." the same man spoke.

The self-appointed regent frowned and with a curt jerk of his hand, a young man, dressed in mage's robes, stepped forward. "Heal the bitch." Loghain snarled, knowing he was beaten, at least at this game.

_Salem!_ my heart shrieked with worry as the young mage's hands began to glow. _Please, love, is this truly necessary? What if…what…no…this is __**dangerous**__. _

A gentle hand squeezed my shoulder and I looked into Wynne's equally anxious eyes. "It will be all right, child." she comforted me, though I knew she, too, had doubts.

The mage pressed his hands to Salem's back and my warden's jaw clenched. Her face went white as the blue of her bruises faded to yellowish green, as the stitches across her back began to fray. She screamed as the spell continued, falling to her knees, curling her hands into fists so that they did not shake. Her eyelids fluttered and her chin fell against her chest as the healer backed away, clearly frightened by her reaction.

I started towards her, but Wynne restrained me. "She must do this alone." the senior enchanter whispered.

_Please be all right, love._ I begged, watching for movement. _Open your eyes, please. Please, Maker, please. Give her the strength. She __**cannot**__ do this alone…and yet she must. _

Slowly, Salem raised her eyes, lines of sweat and tears visible on her face, her skin still many shades too pale. "I am Salem Cousland." she spoke, rising on trembling legs, putting on her shirt. I glanced at the nobles, watching doubt become belief.

"A noble of Ferelden. And a Grey Warden. By the right of the Landsmeet, by the laws of Ferelden," she smiled as her eyes crossed mine, "you will hear me out."


	43. Chapter 43

**Salem**

Breath came in short, jerking gasps as the Landsmeet fell quiet. I had proven my heritage in the most excruciating way that existed. I had been given no other choice. To show my signet would merely prove that I had been at Highever, perhaps a petty thief that Duncan had conscripted after I was caught preying on noble's corpses. There was nothing left but my hereditary weakness to healing magic.

Aftershocks of pain shivered through me and my knees threatened to buckle. I shored them up by sheer force of will, refusing to collapse. Not when my country, my people, all that my father had fought to preserve, stood before me on the brink of destruction.

_I will not fail my house or my blood. _

"Warden Cousland." an arlessa addressed me. "You declared that Regent Loghain imprisoned the queen, his own daughter. Have you any evidence to prove your claims, or was this Landsmeet called so that we might watch two nobles bring baseless accusations against one another?"

"The warden has no evidence." a clear voice spoke from the dais. Anora swept from behind the curtain, chin tilted high, golden hair bound back in an impeccable bun, far from the wreck of a frightened child I had met in Howe's estate. "She has my testimony."

"Anora." Loghain hissed, glaring at his flesh and blood, his sole remaining family, with fire in his eyes. "This is _not_ the time."

"Time for what, father?" she asked, haughty. "Time to tell those who would place their trust in you that you attempted to usurp the crown from your own _child_?"

"Your husband was dead!" Loghain thundered, scandalizing all who would attempt to keep a noble bearing. I felt as though I watched a fishmonger in the streets, screaming at an inefficient slave. "You might well have been next! I took every precaution for your safety! But you would not be persuaded…"

"And extreme measures became necessary?" Anora looked to the crowd. "My father…" she hesitated, "is a good man. _Was_ a good man. Many of you owe him your lives. Many of you owe him your prosperity. But, in his current state, he would upset the balance we have fought so hard to protect. I ask you, teyrns and teyrnas, arls and arlessas, banns…_Fereldens_…abandon your support of him. Many of you remember Bryce Cousland as I do, fondly. His daughter, in keeping with the ever-vaunted Cousland honor, rescued me when my father tore the crown from my hands. She is one of us, a noble of Ferelden. Salem has kept her vow; Loghain has not."

"Your majesty," another voice spoke from the balcony, "is it true that Loghain subjected the warden to torture, and, in so doing, broke the noble's code?"

"Salem sacrificed her safety for my own; this is all I can tell you with assurance." Anora looked to me, green eyes apologetic.

_I understand._ I nodded my head, allowing her to keep her family's dignity. _She will admit that Loghain's grip on sanity is tenuous, but to confess before all Ferelden that he broke the code he himself established…Mac Tir would lose everything. For the friendship we once shared, Anora, I will grant you this small allowance. _

"Thank you, your majesty." the voice responded and the low hum of conversation continued. Anora withdrew, having said all she needed to…all she could bear.

I flashed a quick glance to Leliana, thanking her with my eyes. _You made this possible, dear heart. You, who have ever been my strength, have now become my success as well. There will not be enough years left in time to convey how much you mean to me. There will never be enough time to repay my debts…even were I not cursed to die young. _

"Bah." Loghain huffed. "Trickery. Chicanery. You would hold my daughter's life at ransom, Cousland, until she quotes your falsehoods word for word. I know your game, _traitor_. You would set one of your own, a _blighted Grey Warden_, on the throne of Ferelden. While he may be Maric's son, he is an ill-educated, ill-trained, ill-equipped bastard!" he shouted.

I caught Alistair's eyes in the crowd. He flinched, but obeyed my silent order to come forward. I rested my hand on his shoulder.

"This is no time for weakness." I whispered. "You are the very image of your father. You possess his strength, you possess his wisdom, and you do not share his sins. I am with you, Alistair. I _am with you_."

He nodded. "Say what you must."

"You let a king abandon his child." I glared at Loghain, remembering Eamon's words. _Loghain knew. _"You cast a boy adrift without a father. Lords and ladies assembled, look at this man! He is a warden, yes, but his features are Theirin, his blood is that of kings! He _fights_ for this country while Loghain attempts to rip it apart at the seams. Alistair has been wounded in battle; he has sacrificed all that he is for the protection of innocents. What better man to sit on the throne? Not a child who dreams of grandeur as Cailan did, Maker rest his soul; but a _man_ who has seen trial, killed enemies, known hunger and the plight of the common man."

I took a deep breath, seeing the skepticism on the faces of Ferelden's leaders. Maric's indiscretion was little known, but Loghain had cemented Alistair's identity, screaming it out before the Landsmeet.

_Anger a fool and the truth will emerge_, I smirked, remembering a piece of Eleanor Cousland's wisdom. _Thank you, mother. I hope you can see me now, the child born for your sorrow…I __**did**__ listen, mother. I learned well. _

"A puppet king for your wardens!" Loghain fumed, furious. "It does not matter that he is Maric's own! What matters are his allegiances! Tell me, _boy,_" he sneered, addressing Alistair, "whom do you serve?"

Alistair swallowed, hard. His eyes flitted wildly around the room. I could not step forward. I could not speak for him. This would be the moment that defined him.

_Maker, give him strength_, I prayed, noticing Wynne's closed eyes, Leliana's lips moving in silent supplication.

"I serve the people." Alistair answered, iron in his tone. "And I would serve Ferelden as I do the wardens. In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. I cannot be the man my father was, and I am _not_ the man my brother was." Alistair began moving, drawing the eyes of the crowd to him, standing proud in his polished armor. "I _am_ the man Cailan _wished to be_! I have fought and will continue fighting for this country, and I will destroy any who would dare infringe Ferelden's borders with as much intensity as I battle the darkspawn that threaten us now! _Loghain_," he flung an accusatory finger at the man, "who preaches of freedom, who builds a pedestal for himself on the bones of soldiers who _died_ for our liberty, has sold those who seek our protection into slavery!"

Gasps echoed from the rafters and off the stone floor of the room. I smiled at Alistair. His hands were shaking; hair dampened with sweat.

_But you have spoken as a king would. This is your role, my brother. The Maker intended you for such a time as this. Maric's indiscretion may well have been the inadvertent salvation of Ferelden. Your part in this battle is done, Alistair. Let me continue the fight from here._

Alistair stepped away from the center of the room, followed by the admiring gazes of young men newly ascended to their father's positions, and young women who giggled and hid behind their fans. Older men stroked their beards in thought and many eyes that had turned hard at the mention of Maric's bastard began to thaw.

"What, Cousland?" Loghain snarled at me. "You have your puppets bringing their own accusations now?"

"No." I stated, forcing my eyes to stay open. _Maker, I am tired. That healing spell drained what little strength I had managed to gain. _"Alistair discovered this treason for himself, Loghain." I reached into my shirt and withdrew the rolled parchment. I unrolled it and held it before the crowd, allowing them to see Loghain's seal and distinctive, sprawling signature.

"These are contracts," I handed the papers to servants who disseminated them amongst the Landsmeet, "with Nevarra, Antiva, Tevinter, and yes, even _Orlais_, to provide them with slave labor from Ferelden's alienage."

The conversations rose to a dull roar and I waited for the response from the Landsmeet as Loghain tapped his armored boot, impatient, anxious.

"You present compelling evidence, warden." one of the banns spoke. "However, Ferelden is in crisis and, after all, they are only _elves._"

Anger gripped me as I watched several hoary heads nod in agreement. Loghain smiled at me, a man who had committed a crime, and feared no punishment. Fury boiled in my veins and my vision flashed white.


	44. Chapter 44

**Leliana**

I held a calming hand to my lips, stilling any words I felt might come forth. Salem's face went another shade of white, but not from pain. This, we had witnessed…in the Brecilian Forest when Zathrian's treachery was laid bare. In the Deep Roads, when Paragon Branka had, in her madness, spoken of condemning unwilling souls to Shale's fate. In the Frostback Mountains as Salem witnessed the horrendous acts done by Kolgrim's dragon cult and Father Eirik.

_And in Howe's dungeons, when the arl confessed the crimes committed against the Couslands. No. Not crimes. __**Atrocities**__._

"They are only elves?" she asked, her jaw tight, lips quivering. "They are _only_ elves? You misbegotten _bastard son of __**dogs!**_" the crowd drew back, shocked at such ferocity from a woman who, thus far, had been the picture of gentility.

"How _dare_ you!?" she accused. "How dare _any of you!_ You and your wives, your friends, your families, your brothers and sisters, fought to free Ferelden from the iron grip of Orlais! You sermonized about liberty, pontificated about rights that were, _under no circumstances_, to _**ever**_ be denied! How can you stand before me and claim that others have no right to _those same freedoms!?_ You think your blood any better than theirs?! You think your lives worth more, your souls more precious in the Maker's eyes!?"

"Warden Cousland, calm yourself before the Landsmeet." another noble, wearing the silver circlet of a Ferelden teyrn, ordered.

"I will _not!_" she thundered, words radiating heat.

_Loghain's wrath was bombastic pride_, I thought, seeing the pulse leap in Salem's throat. _This is righteous anger; justice in full fury. It is power, and good, and beauty, and…I. Am. In. Love._

Salem drew a breath, but not in attempt to calm herself. It was to fuel the flame that had been struck. My warden's heart burned in the face of injustice, like a bright, glimmering beacon of hope and truth. I prayed that Ferelden's nobles were not too immersed in their own self-importance to disregard such passion, such unabashed emotion.

"I will _**not** keep my __silence_." she hissed, but it echoed across the room and left a bitter chill in my bones.

Salem took a step forward and stumbled. My heart yearned to go to her, to support her, but I could not. I was helpless. Any whispered words, should they catch another's ears, would surely damn me. I would be known for what I was, an Orlesian…proof that Salem conspired with Ferelden's oldest enemy.

"This is a grievous crime that has been committed!" Salem shouted. "By this wreck of a man who would have you believe that he stood for what is _right_!" she flung an accusatory hand at Loghain. "This _man_ who quit the field and left his daughter's husband, _your king_, to be _**slaughtered**_. And now, he would send others, _**no less your own people**_, into chains that we _**have no right**_ to place them in!"

Salem rested, breathing ragged, brow soaked with sweat, blood showing on the palms of her hands from where she had clenched her fists and the nails had bitten deep.

"You have failed." she sighed, looking at nobles who had entered a war with naught but a vision of a free land, a different rule…a better life. "You have failed this land that you created. You truly are no better than Orlais."

"Heresy!" Loghain shrieked.

"**Truth!**" Salem cried, her entire body shuddering with exertion. "A deep,_ heretical **truth.**_ Maker damn you all, I am _done!_ _Done with the __**mockery, **__the __**pretension**, the __**hypocrisy!**_"

Salem inhaled, preparing to continue, when Loghain backhanded her with a gauntleted fist, sending her to the floor. My hands clenched and once more I felt Wynne's restraining arm about my waist.

"My turn, little noble, little warden." Loghain taunted as Salem propped herself up on her elbows. "She cries in what some would consider justifiable fury." he gestured to Salem's prone body. Blood trickled from her split lip. "She screams of nobility and sacrifice, sermonizing, as she said. But this woman, this child of House Cousland, broke the noble's code. Stand before me, Salem Cousland, and bear witness that you did _not_ torture and kill Arl Howe of Amaranthine."

_Maker, no!_ I shrieked. _No no no no no no no! This is all wrong; this is…what Salem did was __**justified**__. Surely none could fault her for giving her family rest? Surely none…but…it is the same crime of which Loghain stands accused. Old gods and new, Maker above, any who would listen…please, please, please._

"Stand, Warden Cousland." silver-circlet teyrn ordered. "Stand and face the accusations, as is required by the Landsmeet. Did you break the noble's code?"

Salem rose to her feet, refusing to wipe the blood from her mouth. Her eyes burned, screaming of murder and ruin, of all mankind's eventual fate. I cringed from her gaze. "I killed him." she said, a clear, crisp admission. "I murdered the bastard who took my family from me…who did as Loghain ordered him to."

"Cousland betrayed Ferelden!" Loghain bellowed. "Your brother's Orlesian whore was proof enough of that, but more _can be found_!"

"Take back your words." Salem threatened, lost to her rage. "Or, by all that is holy, I will _sever your tongue as I did Howe's_."

"**Enough**!" Arl Eamon broke his silence at last. "This has descended into a sick, mudslinging mockery of a Landsmeet. Nobles, render your judgment. Cast your vote with Loghain and doom this country, or stand with the son of Maric, brother of Cailan, and those who fight with him against the Blight."

_Salem,_ my heart reached out to her as her shoulders sagged in surrender. _The evidence presented was enough to dethrone any king, but you cannot topple racism and nobles ingrained with their ridiculously unchangeable, yet ever un-adhered to morals, in the span of a candlemark. Stand strong, my love. _

"Have the nobles made their decisions?" Eamon asked.

All assembled nodded.

"And all are aware that neither Highever or Amaranthine are represented?" he asked once more.

Again, the nods.

"Then take your side." Eamon ordered. "By order of the Landsmeet, cast your votes. I for one, and Redcliffe with me, stand with the wardens."

Salem's empty, defeated eyes watched as the rest of the nobles called out their choice. A heartening number stated their support for Alistair and Salem, but I could not keep track. Instead, I alternated my gaze between Salem and the young servant who tallied the votes.

The hall fell silent and the servant handed his parchment to Eamon. The Arl cleared his throat and exhaled. "The Landsmeet has spoken." he announced, calm. "Twelve territories support Alistair and the wardens. Thirteen give their support to Queen Anora and queen's Regent, Loghain Mac Tir."

_We…failed_. I realized, watching Salem's countenance fall as the last thread of strength she had managed to cling to faded. Alistair's eyes shone with misgivings and…relief? Of course. He had not desired this from the first.

"Ferelden has made her choice, warden," Loghain sneered, black eyes snapping. "Impassioned speeches aside. A shame, in truth. Had this been a tie, had one noble been undecided, law dictates that the victor would be settled through trial by combat. Best that you lose in this manner…less chance of your demise. Unless, of course, I proclaim you a traitor and sentence you to _death_!"

"_**No!**_" a new voice rang, and Salem's head snapped towards the door.

I followed her line of sight, staring at the open doors, the man hanging against them. He had russet hair and a close-cropped beard, a kind face and…familiar eyes. He pulled himself from the support of the doors and walked, slow, exhausted, to the middle of the room.

He glared at Loghain. "I am Teyrn Fergus Cousland. Highever...stands with the wardens."


	45. Chapter 45

**Salem**

_Fergus_…I stared at my brother, thinking perhaps that my vision had been blurred by pain and exhaustion, or that I had simply collapsed and stood now in a dream world. _Can it be?_

The man who claimed he was my brother turned to me and I flinched, recognizing his eyes, the same shade as my mother's. _It is you_. A mutual shock registered in his face and he fell back a step, skin blanching, as though he gazed upon a ghost.

"Salem." his lips formed my name, but no sound emerged.

_How did…is this…it should not even be possible. I thought…you were dead. Oh Maker. How much does he know? _

"Stop staring in silence!" Loghain shouted, jerking the crowd from its shock. "Nobles assembled, before the vote was cast, we knew Highever would not be represented! You cannot allow his voice to be heard, if his claims of heritage are even true!"

_Not this dead horse once more, Loghain. _I stepped forward, allowing hope to return my much-lacking strength. "I have already proven my parentage." I said. "And I swear on the soul of my father that this man is indeed my brother, Fergus Cousland, rightful Teyrn of Highever."

"Preposterous tricks!" Loghain fumed. "Surely you recognize the warden's last, albeit _valiant_, attempt to bring this Landsmeet to their side!"

"Keep silent, Loghain." Eamon spoke for the rest of the nobles. "Highever remained unrepresented due to the fact that Salem, your accuser, could not cast her vote, as is written in our laws. However, as the eldest child of Bryce and Eleanor, Fergus inherits his father's lands and titles both. His vote cannot be disputed."

"I declared all of Cousland traitors to this country!" Loghain stormed. "Their nobility has been stripped from them! Their voices have been _silenced_! The Landsmeet accepted me for their Regent and King! Tell me then why these orders do not stand!?"

"Still your tongue." Fergus ordered, using a sterner voice than I had ever heard from him before. "Your regency was self-declared, and this Landsmeet was called without the knowledge of many who would _not_ stand beside you. Trickery and foul play, Loghain, these are _your_ weapons. I rode through the night to see you unseated from your ill-gotten throne, and the Landsmeet will _not_ deny me my rights."

I glanced at Leliana, watching her eyes flit from my brother to myself in awe. _There are two of us_, I smiled at her, brief, _two insane, Ferelden nobles who cling to deeply instilled, archaic values. Truth. Justice. Honor. _

"The votes tally to a draw." Eamon gestured for Fergus to join him and my brother obeyed. "As Teyrn Loghain stated, the draw may be decided by combat between the two challengers. Is this amenable to you, Teyrn Loghain?"

"It is." he glared at me, fierce, triumphant. "My sword yearns for the blood of traitors."

"And to you, Warden Cousland?"

_Trial by combat. Maker, I am fighting to keep my eyes open; can hardly stand. Loghain has aged, but wisdom can replace strength. Damn me…damn my cursed blood. _

"Far be it from me to deny a chance for victory." I spoke and Loghain sneered.

"Prepare yourself, Cousland. I will not have it said that I fought an _unjust_ duel." he turned to the Landsmeet. "This country shall see the might of its defenders! Yes! Let it be blades that decide this!" he glared at me. "The _strongest_ shall prevail."

Leliana and Alistair emerged from the crowd, carrying the plates of my armor. I walked to them and allowed them to place the metal against my skin.

"Salem," Leliana whispered, for my ears alone, "are you certain this is wise? Loghain is highly skilled. The chevaliers of Orlais…those who survived…still speak of him with trembling."

"I will not lose." I swore, looking into the deep blue eyes that held my soul.

"Salem, consider her words." Alistair pleaded, latching the straps of leather about my shoulders. "You are exhausted; those of us who know you are amazed that you can still stand. Engaging in single combat…with _Loghain_…"

"I will not lose." I said again, refusing to harbor other thoughts.

_I know you speak from concern, but I cannot afford to doubt myself. I have slain ogres and dragons. This is __**one**__ man. I do not know if I will emerge the victor, but I will __**not**__ lose._

Leliana took advantage of her position to squeeze my hand and I smiled at her, trying to reassure her that I would come back from this, as I had from every trial thus far. _Thank you, Maker. Thank you for bringing my brother back to me in this, our darkest hour of trial. Give Alistair the strength to continue should…no. This is but another trial. Grant __**me**__ the strength to see it through. _

Alistair and Leliana pulled away, the warden laying his arm about the bard to comfort her. I had stared down death in many situations, but never in one this intimate, not bearing this personal a grudge, not with so much at stake.

_The burdens that have lined my shoulders since the Joining have never been so heavy as they are now. _

"Draw your swords." Eamon addressed us.

Loghain's attendant presented the teyrn with his sword and shield. The blade caught the light and I flinched. That sword had sheared Orlesian steel; made the land run red with blood…taken more lives than I could countenance.

I pulled my blades, the battered metal seeming weak by comparison. I had not found any to replace the ones I lost to the dragon's blood. The blades I had stolen from Kolgrim's cultists had served me well, but face to face with an obviously superior weapon…_I am outmatched in every arena._

"Are those the toys of children, warden?" Loghain asked, taunting me. "Surely you do not intend to use…no matter. Let us end this."

_I will not lose_.

"As you say."

"The victor of this battle breaks the tie of the Landsmeet." Eamon announced. "Fight well and with honor. Let the battle begin."

Loghain and I began to circle each other, a dance of predator and prey, though as yet neither role had been assigned. I shook my head, trying to clear my vision. The muscles of my back protested the weight of the armor as they trembled. The tremors rushed to my knees, threatening to bring me to the ground before a single blow had been struck.

Loghain attacked with an overhead strike. I caught the flat of his sword against my blades and his shield battered into me, the spike at its center denting the armor that I wore. I backpedaled, attempting to catch my breath. Relentless, Loghain pressed his attack with a sweeping slash. I deflected his blade and brought my other sword up in an attack. It jarred against Loghain's shield and my arm went numb.

The teyrn swept his blade back and it caught in the unmended tear that Howe's sword had left in my armor. I hissed as I felt Loghain's blade slice cleanly through the scarred skin and grate against bone.

_Maker's fucking __**blood**__!_

My sword fell from limp fingers as my dominant arm was once again rendered useless.

"First blood to Loghain." Eamon's emotionless voice.

"Last as well." Loghain smiled, and I knew my role.

_Prey_.

I tightened my grip on my offhand blade, trying not to feel sick as blood sheeted down my skin. Loghain struck again and I blocked the attack, wincing as sparks flew and my sword, my last defense, sheared off midway through. Loghain's shield bashed against me, its spike punching through armor, the tip piercing through skin. He wrenched the shield out and dropped it to the ground as I reeled from another crippling wave of pain and weakness.

Loghain reached into his belt pouch and blew a black powder into my eyes. I withdrew further, eyes stinging with pain and tears as my vision went dark. _Not this_, I begged, knowing it was futile_, not this again._

"You are blind, warden!" Loghain crowed with triumph. "Cede the match! Ferelden knows her true defender now!"

_Calm_, I tuned my ears, listening to the clank of Loghain's armor as he strutted around me, confident in his victory. _Quiet. Attune yourself to the natural world, then find that which does not belong. Focus on that which you desire above all. _A smile crossed my lips, obliterating sorrow, eliminating pain. _Leliana. I will know __**one**__ day of peace with you, even if I must fight through all of hell to achieve it. _

"As Regent of Ferelden," Loghain proclaimed, "I declare Salem Cousland and all of those of her bloodline and house as traitors! As such, the penalty is _death!_"

_Movement…he lifts his blade…aims for my neck…_

I ducked under the blow, spinning against the ground, bringing the jagged edge of my sheared sword under his chest plate, slicing across the soft skin of his stomach.

Loghain gurgled in surprise and I smiled as the clank of his armor told me that he had fallen to his knees. I rose, unsteady, hand trembling. Loghain's sword fell to the ground with a clatter of metal and defeat. My tears cleared my vision to a fogged haze and I watched the would-be regent attempt to hold in his insides.

"I…did not…" I gasped, "…cede the match. You all…stand as witness."

I grasped Loghain's raven hair and drew his head back, keeping him still, lest he think the battle unfinished.

"Is the Landsmeet agreed?" Eamon looked to all the nobles, whose expressions I could not read. All that registered was the man prone before me, the pain of my body, and the weary joy of my soul.

_I didn't lose. By the Maker's twisted grace, I did not lose. _

"Victory to the house of Alistair Theirin and the wardens." Eamon said. "Salem, as victor in this trial, Loghain's final judgment rests in your hands. What shall it be?"


	46. Chapter 46

**Leliana**

My heart stuck in my throat as I watched Salem consider Eamon's last missive. Her eyelids fluttered and thick streams of blood trickled down her damaged armor.

_I have no way of knowing the extent of her injuries,_ I worried my lip with my teeth. _Maker…I do not even know how she is still on her feet. _

I could see remnants of Loghain's black powder on her face, marred with the streaks of her tears. I breathed a sigh of relief. I had used that particular weapon before, though I did not approve, and knew Salem would _never_ countenance stooping to such a level.

_Not only does the blinding powder lack honor, Salem has also lost her sight. She could never fathom visiting that terror on another, even though it is only temporary. _

"Render your judgment, Salem." Eamon admonished.

The fallen noble in Salem's grasp did not move, did not flinch, his face a study in iron restraint. His pride, his confidence, his lack of knowledge about his opponent had brought him to his knees. As he should be.

_And Salem went into battle more than ill-prepared. Fools and their folly, I suppose. _

"Alistair." Salem called him forth and he joined them. "Our swords are as one. What do you propose?"

"You…" Alistair faltered, clearly stunned and ill-at-ease with the sudden turn of events. "…Riordan…he possesses the secrets of the Joining. You could conscript Loghain, Salem. Force him to put his blade to our cause."

"No." Salem argued, fierce, jerking back on Loghain's hair. The man's lips twitched, but nothing more. "Our profession is a noble one. I will not have the Archdemon spitting fire before me while anticipating a sword in my back."

"Then…death." Alistair suggested and the crowd erupted into a flurry of arguments from the nobles.

"Men and women of the Landsmeet!" Eamon roared over the tumult. "Still your voices! The challenge has been decided; our word has been given! Salem Cousland's word is final! If death is her decision, then death it shall be."

"You…" Loghain gasped, blood showing on his teeth. "…do not…have it within yourself…to kill me."

"I killed Rendon Howe." Salem stated, calm.

My blood shivered as I recalled that moment in the dungeons when all the humanity had fled her eyes and her heart had gone blacker than midnight. But she had come back; had changed herself, even in this short time. I knew she would not give into her rage and end her grudge against Loghain with a vengeful sword.

"It…" Loghain prophesied, and I wondered if he had yet another defense concealed, "…will be different…with me."

"Loghain Mac Tir," Salem announced, her voice hoarse with weariness and spent with pain, "for the crime of high treason against the throne of Ferelden, for selling her citizens into unlawful slavery, for conspiring against nobles of your own country, and abandoning your sworn duty to protect and defend your king, I sentence you to…"

"Salem, _no!_" Anora rushed to my warden, falling on her knees before her father, gazing at Salem with despondent eyes. "Please," she begged, "for the friendship we once shared, for the blood and title that bind us to Ferelden, _please…please __**spare**__ my father._ I know I ask too much, for you to exercise mercy when you were shown none, but I will give you _anything_."

"Anora." Loghain chastised, clearly displeased with his daughter's supplication.

The queen's desperate pleas fell silent, but she looked at Salem with such fear, such sorrow, that my heart nearly broke for her.

"Get on your feet, Anora." Salem ordered. The queen rose, shaky. "For your crimes, Loghain, I strip you of your land and title. You and your family are forever banished from our shores. Make your life in another land, where you are bound to its laws, so that you may forever regret your treason against the land that loved you. Mage," she gestured to the young man that had healed her, "you may attend to the prisoner."

_Mercy_, I smiled. _Salem grants him mercy, even though he was the sole engineer of her grief. Maker, had Andraste not been the woman destined to become your Bride, I think you might have found a suitable one in this woman. Fortunately, the histories have been written...in my favor._

Loghain chuckled as the mage once under his command healed him at Salem's behest. The healer finished his work and stepped aside and Salem jerked back on Loghain's hair as the disgraced noble made to stand.

"Warden Cousland!" another voice echoed through the room, cold and vicious. "It is with respect that I question your judgment. Do not let that man go free!"

"Cauthrien!" Loghain shrieked. "You treacherous bitch! Guards! Silence her!"

Salem rested her shattered blade against Loghain's throat. Only those of us who had traveled this anguish-laden road with her saw the trembling of her hand.

_Let this be finished soon_, I prayed, fervent. _For her sake_.

"Ser Cauthrien," Salem spoke, slow, measuring her words, "I grant your…unvoiced…petition to contest my judgment. Present your reasons."

The knight who had torn my lover's body apart strode forward and I clenched my hands in anger. _I am not as forgiving as Salem. Were I in her position, with her current power, I would see that bitch equally as punished. _

"I served Teyrn Loghain." Cauthrien announced. "And, I have discovered, committed treason under his orders. I am first a Knight of Ferelden, and I wish to clear my name."

"Someone," Loghain screamed, "bind that whore's tongue!"

"As one should have bound yours?" Cauthrien asked him, incensed. "I _believed_ in you, Tey…Loghain. I _trusted_ you. Your crimes are too grave; the warden's punishment too kind. Salem Cousland…I have committed atrocities against you in the name of Loghain's lies. I wish…I wish to prove my loyalty, to your cause and to my new king."

The knight drew her massive blade and knelt before Alistair, this time addressing him. "I, Cauthrien, Knight of Ferelden, do swear fealty and allegiance to Alistair of House Theirn; to protect and defend him for so long as he draws breath. My soul to the Maker. My heart to the King. My body to the Land."

Alistair glanced at Salem, wide-eyed, uncertain of what to do.

Salem, ever graceful, intervened, "In the name of the king, Ser Cauthrien, rise in the Maker's grace."

"My liege," Cauthrien spoke as she got to her feet, "I beg your indulgence yet further. Please, grant me one boon. Let me remove this traitorous _wretch_."

"Salem?" Alistair asked, turning to my warden for direction.

"You are the king," she smiled, wan, "it is your decision."

Alistair then looked to me, begging for aid. Salem would offer him nothing, but I would not be so desperately good.

_He hurt her_. I glared at Loghain. _He stole everything from her and sent her on the path that has led her through hell. His orders saw her tortured, her body broken. His own sword pierced her skin and drew her blood…thrust back upon her the horror of her blindness. No. A man such as this does not deserve to live. I am __**not**__ Salem. I could never be as…**good**._

I looked to Alistair, then to Cauthrien, giving him a quick nod.

"Ser Cauthrien," Alistair drew a deep breath, "your request is granted. The life of Loghain Mac Tir is yours."

Salem withdrew her hand from Loghain, stepping back, stumbling as she did so. Alistair moved behind her in support, a movement so minute I doubted that any had noticed…save Wynne. Save me. Save those who loved her above all.

"Cauthrien." Loghain growled, a warning.

The knight readied her blade and glared at the man who had deceived her; who had torn her honor away. "May you not know the Maker's embrace." she whispered.

The blade lifted and many of the nobles, men and women alike, turned their heads. With a quick, decisive strike, Loghain's severed head toppled to the floor, blood fountaining over Salem's armor and skin. Anora's shriek of grief seemed to split the stone of the floors…all else was silent.

_There is…_I glanced at Salem and felt as though I had been strangled, _…grief in her eyes. And empathy. Salem meant to banish him from the beginning, even before Anora's pleas. For the sake of an old, now dead friendship, a lingering memory, she could forego her own desires, her own resolution. And now, she grieves with Anora…for the loss of a father, who, in the case of Loghain, was once…a good man. _

"Judgment has been rendered." Eamon announced, all energy gone from his voice. "The Landsmeet is free to dissemble. Return to your homes, ready your armies, and prepare for battle. Maker's mercy upon us all…there is still a Blight."

The nobles filed out of the room, an elderly arlessa escorting Anora. The rest of us stood there, uncertain, for once, of what to do. We were nearing the end of our desperate journey…and the future before us was tenuous at best.

_However,_ I walked to Salem, skirting the pool of Loghain's blood, _I am certain of __**one**__ thing. At the end of it all, I will be with** you**, my warden. That is all the future I desire. _


	47. Chapter 47

**Salem**

I watched the Landsmeet depart, my heart heavy with grief. We had been victorious, but only through blades crossed, not peaceful resolution…not the system of judgment and justice. This triumph rang hollow. And Loghain was dead…decapitated by his most faithful knight.

_A great man…a hero, by all accounts…slaughtered. Here. A man who believed in freedom, who brought his people and his name up from ignominy…dead. Lost. How quickly the mighty falter when power is placed in their hands, _I mused, unable to tear my eyes from the corpse on the ground. _How long will it be until I, too, am overwhelmed by the authority I wield? How long, Loghain, until I meet with your same fate?_

Suddenly, gentle hands were touching me, turning my face from what I feared would be my future.

"Salem," Leliana's lyric tones brought me fully out of reverie. "Salem, it is finished. They are gone now. It is over, at last."

_For how long_?

"Leli." I pulled my gauntlets off and touched her skin, needing to feel something other than the cold, dead weight that had settled in my chest. Her warmth spilled into me and I smiled.

"You're bleeding, love." she whispered. "Let me help you. Then we can return to the estate, and rest."

She began to remove my armor and I stood there, wooden.

_When will it be home?_ I wondered, eyes drawn to the blood on the floor once more. _When will that be our destination, Leliana? Will I ever be able to shed these burdens and live, simply live, with you?_

I felt weight removed from my body; heard the clank of metal as armor was set aside. I dropped my broken sword, listening to the chilling ring of metal against stone.

My right arm burned as Leliana's deft fingers loosed the straps that held the damaged plate in place.

"Maker's breath." she whispered, surveying the damage done.

A despondent weariness settled over me as I stared at the blood that dripped off of my fingertips like a macabre rain.

_I tire of this_. I realized. _No sooner is one wound closed than another is opened. How did it come to pass that this is my fate? When did I apply the blinders that have let me forget that life can be normal? How long have I pushed myself beyond all limits…uncaring? _

The muscles in my back spasmed and Leliana tensed, preparing to…_to catch me if I fall. I love you, heart's dearest, from here into…whatever is left for me. It is certainly not eternity. _

"Salem," my brother's ghost spoke to me.

_No. Not his ghost. Against all odds…he is alive. _

"Sister," he traced the brilliant-hued scar across my cheek, "is it truly you?"

_Who else would it be…though perhaps I am so changed that I am unrecognizable, even to my own flesh and blood. _

"Yes." I smiled, for his sake. I had no mirth left in me. Joy had given way to exhaustion. I stood only because I did not have the strength to fall apart.

"Maker's blood, Salem." Fergus' eyes shone with words he did not know how to speak. "You look like death."

_I am death._ "You are too kind."

The greaves on my legs fell away and I trembled, feeling weightless without the metal to anchor me.

Fergus reached out to steady me, to verify that I did exist, that he, too, had not lost everything.

_ Except his mother and father, his wife and child. All that is left is the sister who could not protect them, who let our home be taken, who allowed our mother to condemn herself to death. This is the source of your joy, brother? You should hate me. _

I reached up and took his hand in mine, squeezing it. _Forgive me, brother. Please, forgive me. _

"I heard…" tears pooled in his eyes, "…I heard there was a warden conscripted in Highever that survived Ishal. I did not allow myself to hope…that it was you."

"Stranger things have occurred." Eamon rested his hand on my brother's shoulder. "You are welcome to return to my estate with me. There is still much to be done. Salem will follow later."

"But…" my brother gazed from Eamon's face to mine, torn between his heart and his duty, a torment I knew all too well.

"Go." I urged him, not wishing to him to see what would come next. "All will be well. I am all right."

_This tragedy is not for you. You have suffered enough and I…well I accepted this for my fate. Leave me._

"I will see you soon, sister." Fergus departed with Eamon, casting a sorrowful look over his shoulder.

I waited until the door closed; felt Leliana's arms wrap around me as Alistair and Sten dragged Loghain's headless body out of the Great Hall.

_And how will it be honored?_ I wondered. _A traitor's nameless grave, or a royal's pyre? Which is deserved…should we be honest before our people, break their spirits yet further, or spin the tragic tale of a man who gave his life for his country…I tried, Anora. I tried to spare you the grief I have known. I failed…again. _

"Let go, love." Leliana whispered, devastatingly tender. "I've got you, please let go."

I surrendered at last, letting my legs give out from under me. I collapsed in Leliana's arms. She eased me to the ground and Wynne strode forward, Morrigan at her heels.

Wynne's keen eyes examined the wound on my torso. "Praise the Maker for strong Ferelden steel." she smiled, kind. "A hair's breadth deeper and your stomach would have been pierced."

I managed a half-laugh and Leliana's hand stroked through my hair, comforting. "So…weary of this." I whispered, too numb; unable to feel the pain.

Wynne ignored my words, turning her attention to my arm. "This is where the greatest damage was done." the healer frowned. "Salem, if I do not heal you now, you could lose the use of your dominant arm."

The room fell silent and my heart sank. _Although I do not know why. I should expect this. I should have…become accustomed, by now. _

"Wynne." Leliana's voice quavered. "Are you certain?"

"I wish I were not." Wynne looked to my bard with sorrow. "But the cut was too deep. Loghain's blade even scored the bone. If I do not use magic, her arm will heal, but improperly. Too many nerves have been severed; muscles sheared. It is…grim."

I lay there, powerless to move, sickened by the state of the land I had given so much for. "Then do it." I told her, uncaring.

"Salem," Wynne began, her cautioning tone.

"_Fucking_ heal me." I hissed.

_I do not wish to be in this world any longer. Even my soul is worn. Please…Maker, ancient gods…are there none who will grant me __**rest**__?_

I closed my eyes, attempting to shut out the chaos in my mind. I focused on the sole good thing in my world; Leliana's arms around me, her warmth, her care, her willingness to carry me and my burdens.

_In truth,_ _she is more responsible for Ferelden's salvation than I. What…what have I ever done to deserve such a gift?_

"Leliana," I heard Wynne's voice, coming to me from a distance, "there is still another's healing magic coursing through her veins. When the young mage's spell interacts with mine, the power will intensify. Salem will be in paralyzing, agonizing pain. If you wish not to see this, I am certain she will understand."

"No." my bard answered, fierce. "I failed her once in Howe's dungeons. I will not abandon her now."

"Very well then." Wynne rested a hand on my shoulder. "Salem, prepare yourself."

_Why? It has ceased to matter. I will never be without pain. _

Wynne readied her magic and placed her hands over my injuries. All of my muscles went rigid; one coherent thought _shrieking _through my mind.

_I. Am. In. Hell._


	48. Chapter 48

**Leliana**

Someone stirred next to me and I rousted myself from an uneasy sleep. I wiped grit from my eyes and brushed my hair out of my face, cursing softly in Orlesian. The uneasy rocking back and forth of Eamon's caravan did not make for a satisfactory rest, and I felt as though I had not slept in years.

Salem jerked in her sleep; her eyelids twitched. All manner of weariness fled and I sat up, shoving aside a basket filled with provisions.

"Salem?" I asked, taking her hand in mine and weaving our fingers together. "Salem, can you hear me?"

_Please, Salem, please wake up. It's been two days. Maker's blood…your screams are still echoing in my ears. I need your voice, love. I need your voice to drown those memories. Open those beautiful eyes, my warden. _

"Salem, I'm here. With you. You are all right." comforting nonsense spilled from my lips.

Had anyone been there to witness this, they would have seen me naked, vulnerable, begging for something so terrifyingly simple. But none other loved her as I did. Their blood did not burn when the warden cried out in pain, their hearts did not ache as her eyes closed, as her body went slack, they did not lose sleep while waiting for her to awaken.

_They need you only as a warden, but I need you, simply __**you**_.

Her eyelids fluttered again and my heart caught in my throat. I squeezed her hand tight in my own, praying.

At last, her eyes opened, a hazy, confused…_stunning_ blue.

"Welcome back, my love." I whispered, smiling so wide I thought my face might split in two.

"Where," she took in our cramped surroundings, "am I?"

"Eamon's caravan wagon." I informed her, taking my canteen and holding it to her lips. She drank and I continued. "You fell unconscious after Wynne healed you. We had no idea of knowing when you would wake, and time is precious, so we decided to carry you with us. You've been catatonic for two days…forgive me…" I faltered as I saw the weariness in her gaze. "I am rambling again."

_I was so frightened, Salem. You screamed until your throat began to bleed; your heart almost stopped beating…for the second time. It broke my heart, Salem…it shattered me. _

"Good…decision." her lips quirked in a half-smile.

"How are you feeling?" I dared to ask, hating her pallor, the sling holding her right arm immobile, the dark shadows beneath her eyes.

"Weary." she answered, closing her eyes.

_Not just in body_, my thoughts spoke the words that she did not.

"I know, my warden." I stroked her hair away from her face. "I know."

She turned her face away from me and my heart cracked. "I…I do not want to do this anymore."

_No one else can, my love._ "It is nearly at an end." I tried to comfort her, but my words rang hollow in my ears. _How much more so in hers?_

"What end?" she asked, her voice darker than it had ever been…even during her blindness. "What end, Leliana? Everywhere I go, blood is shed. My life is painted in varying hues of crimson and I am its source. I…I never wanted that."

_I know. I know your desires, for they match my own. Peace. Simplicity. Life. But there is no time for that now. Death must reign a little longer; all things to their season. _

"Tell me what you do want." I smiled as her face turned to mine once more.

_Think of the future my darling girl. Think of what awaits you at the end of this road. Think of the gifts you have been given; your brother's life, a good man on the throne of your beloved country…the love of an Orlesian bard, for what little that is worth. _

"To forget what pain is." Salem answered. "I tire of weakness and bandages and hovering companions. I'm tired of seeing anguish on your face, Leliana, and knowing that I am its source. I want skin made of metal and a heart made of the same."

"Your heart is beautiful." I told her, lying down beside her and resting my head on her shoulder. "It is kindness and warmth and justice and fierce, fierce love. Please leave it unchanged."

Her body shuddered in my embrace and I knew, without looking, that tears were burning across her cheeks. "It _hurts_, Leliana." she wept. "Everything _fucking __**hurts**_. And it does not _cease_. I've fought so hard, for so long…and it seems to crumble away at every turn. How do I even know that when the Archdemon arrives, those who we have persuaded will actually aid our cause?"

"Your faith is strong, Salem." I encouraged her. "It has brought us so far. You have led us through the impossible; you have even defied death. Surely you can keep hold of it a little longer."

"I _can't_." she crumbled, clutching my hand in hers. "Leliana, I _**can't**_."

_No, Salem, no!_ My heart shrieked. _You have just now come back to me; please do not close away your heart. Dear Maker…I need you so much, __**love**__ you so much…is it...is it possible that you need me, in this moment, even more?_

"Then I will keep faith for you." I promised, reaching up and wiping away her tears. "I have walked through hell at your side, Salem, and I will continue to do so."

"Why?" she sounded lost. "Why? I could _die_, Leli. Why would you stand beside me, knowing that, knowing how easily my skin is torn, knowing that the Maker's gift of healing magic is a curse to me? You know my every weakness."

"And I know your every strength." I smiled, though it was half-hearted. "And if…" I choked over the words, the thoughts, "…if you die, my warden, I will be there, holding you as I am now, keeping your faith alive."

She rolled over in a rush of movement, pulling her arm from the sling and wrapping it around me, pulling me against her, forcing her lips against mine in a furious, frustrated kiss. "I…don't…deserve…you." she breathed.

She calmed and we lay there, forehead to forehead, my fingers caught in her hair. "You have taught me one thing above all, my love." I told her, knowing, feeling that, somehow, everything would resolve itself.

"What is that?" the song of defeat still layered her voice, but there would be time to remedy that.

"That love is given, not deserved." I smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. "With Marjolaine, every affection was earned, every approval was paid for with blood. It is not so with you."

Salem laughed, dark. "However, I am certain she never fell apart before you."

"True." I agreed. "But that is one of the rare perks of being an emotionless bitch."

Salem laughed again, a true, pure sound of mirth. "Would you prefer I adhere to her example?"

"No, my warden." I fitted my body to her own. "I love you as you are, for who you are. Even if you must occasionally collapse in my arms. They will always be waiting, and only for you."

She smiled and kissed me, too heartsick for heavier words. I understood, trying to give her what peace I was able. Soon, I knew, all the denizens of the abyss would be set against us again. Blades and bows would be raised, prayers sent out, blows taken…lives lost.

_Until then, I have you for my own. And I will cherish that time, Salem. For I will keep you grounded here on this earth; __**no one**__ will take you from me but the hand that crafted this world. I love you, my warden. I love you. So rest, while you are able. Surrender your burdens for the moment. _

"Leliana," Salem whispered, eyes closed, body relaxed, "I am sorry."

"For what, love?" I asked.

She kissed me again, gentle, tender, lingering. "Well…I did promise you a hot bath."

"That you did." I took a playful, chastising tone. "But I will take the ability to ride to Redcliffe as a reward of consolation."

"Present company excused?" Salem sighed, asking a layered question.

_Stop apologizing to me, my love. It is unnecessary. _

"Present company included."

* * *

_**Author's**_** Note:** This concludes this segment of the tale. Once again, I am considering a sequel, which will be the finale...I think. Please let me know via review or PM if you would like to see more of this pairing and this style. Thanks to all who read and reviewed, and special gratitude to Hotcutii3 and Ellwyndara. You guys are fabulous.

Bright blessings,

Raven


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